The Distance
by weezer42
Summary: Vincent is taken by forces unknown, possibly Muirfield, maybe someone else. Does he have a future? Only time will tell.
1. Part One

21/05/2013

**Title:** The Distance

**Author:** squeezynz

**Rating:** PG – R(for some chapters)

**Pairing: **Vincat

**Setting:** Post S1 finale

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**Synopsis:** Vincent is taken by forces unknown, possibly Muirfield, maybe someone else. Does he have a future? Only time will tell.

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**Authors Note: **After watching series one several times through I just had to write something, and this is the result. I should warn you, I only write epics, so be prepared for a long read. That said, this is done for my own entertainment, to my own tastes and to satisfy my own version of what could happen to my favourite pair. I've tried to be as accurate as possible, but I'm only human so the following disclaimer applies: -

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Any and all spelling, grammar, grammatical and punctuation mistakes are entirely my own. Feel free to correct me, but don't hold you breath that I'll action the corrections (unless they are truly horrendous). You should also know that I am a Brit, so any incorrect usage, unwanted 'u's or misplaced 's's are all my own fault, also any mangling of American jargon or incorrect naming of objects/items or places can also be blamed on me being a Brit. That said, I have done my research and you could, if you wanted to, trace the places and routes taken by our heroes across the country. If you know any of those places intimately and I've got something wrong, put it down to artistic license. Any and all mistakes can and will be blamed on my being a Brit, in New Zealand and not in the states. Live with it. Otherwise, enjoy my continuing adventures of Vincat served up with a dash of excitement, a dollop of Beastliness, a line up of villains, and a whole lot of romance. It's what I do best.

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Below is the official line on S2 – just for your edification and has nothing to do with my story – at all.

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**CW Season two blurb** -"9:00-10:00 P.M. "Beauty And The Beast"

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Detective Catherine Chandler (Kristin Kreuk), shaken to the core over the fact that everything she thought she knew about her life has been a lie, is determined to get answers to the secrets that have been revealed about her family. Cat and Vincent continue to grapple with the desire to be a normal couple while trying to keep a low profile in order to stay one step ahead of the mysterious organization known as Muirfield, now on the hunt for both of them.

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now, on with the story...enjoy

**Somewhere, as yet unknown.**

Pushing against the flat surface he tried to lever himself upright but failed, collapsing back on to the cold tiles, his cheek hitting the floor hard enough to make him grunt in pain. Whatever they had used was powerful and long lasting, his muscles refusing to respond to his commands. His finger tips tingled like pins and needles, the usually ever-present Beast inside him subdued and unhelpful. Gathering his strength he tried again, pushing his hands flat against the unforgiving floor but only managing to roll himself over on to his back, that effort leaving him with bright sparks dancing across his vision, blinding him.

"Subject continues to fight the lingering effects of the tranquilizers, but is unable to do more than draw on minimum muscular responses." The drone of the observer beyond the barricade of his prison washed over his senses.

Mustering his thoughts Vincent moistened his lips before speaking, his voice rough and scratchy.

"Water."

"Subject has asked for water, but made no further effort to move from his prone position."

The voice remained even and uninterested, as if watching someone struggle and ask for a drink was

too minor to be worth the effort. Vincent swallowed and tried again.

"Please...some water."

"Come and get it...if you can." The voice held no more inflection than before but somehow it carried a wealth of menace. Blinking away the sparks still darting around in his vision, Vincent fought the encroaching lethargy, willing his body to respond and throw off the drugs binding him.

What seemed like hours later he managed to get himself on to all fours, his head hanging down as he rested on shaking limbs, hands flat and elbows locked. He felt as weak as an infant, but the image of Catherine reaching up to him, her face stricken, infused his body with an ember of his beastly strength, enough to draw one knee up, enough to raise him slowly upright to stand, albeit swaying on his feet. Over the drumming of his heart he could hear the hated voice continue its monologue.

"Subject has managed to metabolize the drugs much quicker than expected. Note a reminder to increase dosage."

Mindful that he didn't want to end up back on the floor, Vincent slowly turned his head to find the source of his tormentor. The room beyond his prison was eerily empty, only a darkened window breaking up the monotony of the grey walls. Glancing up at the ceiling he could see nothing but a concealed strip light, the cover secured with a metal flange and bolts. It was all horribly familiar. Moving very precisely while his body recovered, Vincent turned to face the darkened window, the bars and room almost a copy of the one Muirfield had taken him to not so long ago. Now he was once more in their clutches, or so he supposed. Who else would go to so much trouble? An image of Catherine swam across his vision again, making him shake his head. It wasn't that he didn't want to remember, he just needed every ounce of concentration to keep himself vertical.

Looking down at himself he noted that everything he'd been wearing had been replaced, his bare feet poking out of grey track-pants teamed with a similarly grey t-shirt. As he catalogued himself he realised the pants and shirt were all he had on; nothing underneath. Mentally shrugging, Vincent turned his attention back to what was going on internally. Without showing anything outwardly he tried to find his Beast, his muscles flexing as he tested and sought, wanting more than ever to feel the burn, his attention back to what was going on internally. Without showing anything outwardly he tried to find his Beast, his muscles flexing as he tested and sought, wanting more than ever to feel the burn, the red heat that was like a second skin he could draw on when needed. Since attaining a measure of control, he considered it – if not a blessing – as no longer a curse, more like a layer of armour to call on in desperate situations. An image of Catherine on the ground; unconscious, made him bare his teeth, a tickle of heat presaging a sudden flooding of fire throughout his body – the Beast was back.

As much as he wanted a normal life, this had been normal for the last ten years and now he revelled in it, his growing anger feeding the Beast, getting stronger with each second. Catherine had made the decision for him, for them both and now there was no going back. Feeling the energy and power of the Beast well up inside him, Vincent slowly raised his head to stare, eyes glowing gold, at the darkened window, at the faceless men hiding behind the screen. He could feel his body start to change, his muscles bunching and stretching his clothing, his skin tightening, fingers flexing as nails turned into claws, his lips drawing back into a snarling grimace in preparation for roaring his defiance at his enemies.

A door opened, and as quickly as the heat as risen Vincent made it subside, a measure of his control meaning that the man who entered saw only Vincent as his normal self, the Beast no longer evident.

The man, of medium height and solidly built, walked over and stood several feet from the bars, as if on an invisible line just out of Vincent's reach. Silently the two men measured and weighed each other, the older casting a shrewd eye over Vincent's physique before meeting him eye to eye.

Vincent was the first to speak. "Why aren't I dead?"

A wry smile tilted the older man's lips for a second. "You should be, and probably will be, but not today."

"The last time this happened I was slated for dissection."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Clumsy. I would suppose he wanted to see your reaction to that likelihood."

Vincent let the Beast out for a second, his eyes glowing gold in a brief demonstration. The other man watched closely, giving a nod when Vincent quickly reverted to himself.

"Yes. You are different. Quite different, in point of fact."

"Different from what?"

The man ignored his question. "I wonder if it is purely a time factor, or if something else has triggered this ability. Ten years is a long time to remain dormant, and then to suddenly evolve in the space of a year is quite remarkable."

Vincent remained mute, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what the man was getting at. It would seem that all his efforts to remain underground and undetectable had been for nought. His enemies had known all along where he was and his situation. They had been waiting for something to set off the chain of events, had been watching ever since Catherine had come back into his life.

He groaned inwardly. The older man seemed to see his thoughts.

"Yes, you were extremely naïve to think we didn't know exactly where you were. We could have taken you at any time over these past years, but it didn't serve our purpose to do so."

"Why now?" Vincent growled.

"Because now you are worth studying. You have evolved to a stage we can use, can test."

Vincent suddenly stepped closer to the bar, the man taking an involuntary step back despite the barrier between them.

"I won't be your lab rat. You might as well kill me now."

"And give up the chance of ever seeing Detective Chandler ever again?"

Vincent checked and drew in a deep breath. His guts twisted as his feelings for Catherine flooded through him leaving him tense, a muscle flexing along his jaw the only indication of his turmoil. It was enough.

"Yes, I was sure that would provoke a reaction." The older man let his gaze wander over Vincent's features, lingering briefly on the scar running down one side. "Is the man that made that still alive?"

"No."

"Pity. We had a great deal invested in that project." The man shook his head. "Such a waste."

Vincent felt his Beast start to rise to the surface. "Good men died in that project."

"Men who, unlike you, had no control over themselves. They were truly beasts...at the end."

"They were guinea pigs, we had no idea..."

The man held up a hand to interrupt him. "You knew what you were doing. It was all spelt out very clearly.

"Even your own doctors didn't know what was going to happen! The side effects..."

"Of course, you were quite friendly with Doctor Chandler, weren't you? The man interrupted. "You were her favourite. Being a doctor yourself you had a unique perspective on what was happening. It was one of the reasons we recruited you into that unit."

Vincent stared at the man mutely. It was true that Vanessa Chandler has spent more time with him than the other grunts, had answered his questions as fully as she could from what he remembered of that time. It was because of her compassion and her getting him out of the country and back to the states that had forged the bond between them, and why Vincent has taken on the role of protector. In that he had ultimately failed Vanessa, but since her death he had never failed her daughter. For ten years he'd been her unrecognised and unseen guardian. He'd told Catherine he'd only checked in on her on her birthday, but that hadn't been the whole truth. If he'd told her the full truth she would have viewed him as the worst kind of stalker, his guardianship unlooked for and unwanted in the ten years before they met again. Even now, despite everything they'd shared, he shied away from telling her it all, his need to protect her from the ugliness of reality as strong as ever.

The man continued, unaware of Vincent's introspection. "We were unprepared when she managed to get you both back to the states. That took some impressive string pulling, even for such a resourceful woman as Vanessa."

Vincent remained silent, his gaze focused on the mans chest rather than his face. A thought was starting to chase itself around his head, the pieces of a particular puzzle starting to come together and create an unsavoury whole.

"You seem to have admired Doctor Chandler," The man said, " and now you are in a relationship with her daughter."

That brought Vincent's head up, his eyes meeting the mans with the Beast barely leashed showing through.

"Yes, we know about you and...Catherine Chandler. We even know that she had a scare recently. We were sorry to hear she wasn't pregnant after all."

This time Vincent didn't bother to leash the Beast and gave full vent to his rage, roaring his defiance and reaching for the man, who leapt back several feet, avoiding the swipe of Vincent's claws by mere inches. As quickly as his rage had flared, it died away, Vincent shaking his head to clear it of the Beast's influence, his body reverting back to normal in the time it took to exhale.

The man watched in silent awe, his previous first hand experience of the cross-species transformation limited to the bits and pieces animated in their labs. The young man in front of him was leaps and bounds beyond whatever they'd managed to replicate so far, his physiology a perfect meld of human and beast, able to be controlled at will. It was the culmination of their plans all those years ago, and that went so horribly wrong. Here was what they had always been hoping for. Half man half beast, a weapon so far unseen and unobtainable despite repeated attempts. So much more than they had hoped for when the plan to grab Gabe had first been implemented. At first he'd been astounded to see the two elusive experiments together, their primary objective to capture Gabe, not realising that Gabe had been several jumps ahead of them in contacting Vincent to harvest his specialised dna. Seeing the two fighting below, he'd made a snap decision of who to shoot and who to capture. Despite Gabe having the upper hand, it was Vincent that drew his attention. This was quite possibly their best chance to study and eventually replicate what had been done before. With Gabe about to spear Vincent he'd given the order and taken an irrevocable step towards a more certain future for the whole project. The man in the cage was a chance to finally get it right.

"I think we can find a better use for you than merely taking you apart to see how you tick."

"Whatever you think you can make me do, I won't do it." Vincent stated flatly. Turning his back he paced to the back wall of the cell, his fists slowly clenching at his side.

"Not even if it could mean seeing Catherine again?" the man taunted, moving forward to see Vincent's reaction, bringing him imprudently within reach of the bars. In a flash of movement Vincent was there, his arm outstretched in full Beast mode, the man now flattened against the bars, feet barely touching the floor and his throat being squeezed relentlessly. It had all happened faster than anyone could react to, Vincent snarling his rage into the man's contorted face, teeth bared and eyes glowing gold.

The crash of a door announced reinforcements, Vincent feeling the prick of darts against his skin but not willing to give up his hold just yet. It took three darts before his grip loosened enough for them to free the man, Vincent succumbing once more and slumping to the floor unconscious, while his tormentor collapsed clutching his at his bruised throat and gasping for air.

Shrugging off his helpers, the man staggered to his feet and slowly approached the bars, the others standing at a respectful distance, their guns trained unerring on the prone body inside the cage. In a voice hoarse from nearly having his windpipe crushed, the man rasped out several orders. In short order the cage was opened and the body inside dragged unceremoniously out of the room to another along the corridor, there to be strapped securely on to a gurney before being transported deeper into the building.

Massaging his sore neck, the man watched the security team enter the elevator. Beside him another man glanced uneasily between the two until the metal doors shut, then he turned to the older man.

"Why lab two and not one? I thought he was due to be dissected?"

"Always so ready with the knife, Gregory. This one is different. This one is what we've been looking for, the success that has so far eluded us. Vincent Keller is the real deal, what this project originally set out to achieve a decade ago. I'm not about to carve up a prime specimen. Far from it, I intend to use that young man as the breeding stock for our next battalion of super soldiers." He clapped the other man on the shoulder. "The Chimera Project is going to be restarted, this time with a viable source for everything to come. You could say that Vincent Keller is our genesis."

"If you say so, Sir. Will he co-operate?"

The older man laughed briefly before dissolving into coughing. When this passed he smiled broadly at his companion. "Of course he won't co-operate, but every man has a weakness, and a simple inducement will keep him under control better than any cage, drugs or chains ever could."

"Inducement?"

"The young woman you were so keen to shoot, Gregory...my daughter. Catherine is the key to our Beast, for an assurance of her safety I think our Mr. Keller will do what ever we ask."

The two men continued on down the corridor, passing by the elevator doors where a light continued to blink steadily, indicating ever increasing numbers on a panel above them as it carried its unwilling burden to a level far underground.


	2. Part Two

Catherine sat on the edge of her bed and stared unseeing at her bedroom wall. A sound drew her attention to the doorway where Tess appeared carrying a mug of something hot.

"Here, get this down you. There's nothing we can do right now and you're exhausted. It's coffee with a dash of something to keep out the chill." Tess pressed it into her hands, the heat registering despite her complete lack of interest in anything, least of all something to drink. It was as if someone had wiped her clean of any desire or ambition, her usual drive to be doing something buried under an avalanche of shock and despair in seeing Vincent captured and taken beyond her reach, by people they had tried so hard to avoid, and yet had managed to not only find them, but snatch their prey right from under her nose. Never mind that she'd barely been able to see straight, let alone shoot straight having been thrown by Gabe to hit the ground hard enough to knock her unconscious for several minutes. She'd been cleared on any major head injury by the doctor in the Accident and Emergency, but that was little comfort in the face of the disaster of that night.

J.T and Tess had come quickly to the scene when she'd called them, Gabe's body a stark reminder of the horrible events leading up to Vincent's capture. Tess had reported that Gabe's accomplice had been found shot dead on a sidewalk, shortly after leaving J.T and not far from Gabe's apartment. It was supposed that she'd run foul of Muirfield, a loose end they'd quickly tidied up. The assistant district attorney's death was harder to explain, but at least Catherine was not suspected of having anything to do with it, there being nothing to implicate her since Gabe had told no-one about his plans other than Tyler, who was now dead. The doctor Catherine had taken the virus from had long since fled, leaving no witnesses to the district attorneys demise other than those that would not be talking about it any time soon. Given that his body appeared quite normal, apart from several bullet holes, it was supposed it was a gang related retaliation with few leads and fewer suspects. As they found no weapon to match the rounds, the case was largely left open and unsolved.

Catherine had been taken back to her apartment by Tess and J.T, the three of them in varying states of shock, J.T for once speechless at the catastrophe of his friend taken by the very organisation they were in hiding from. Tess was concerned for Catherine's state, her friend looking as if her world had suddenly come to an end, Cat's hands icy and her skin pasty at best. The visit to the emergency room had been mercifully brief with little needing doing apart from a thorough check over. After that it was a quick trip back to Cat's apartment. There were several messages waiting for attention on the answer phone, but Tess figured they could wait for a moment or two.

"Drink it before it gets cold," she urged her friend, wrapping Catherine's cold fingers around the mug to warm them. Tess then draped a throw from the bed around Cat's shoulders, rubbing her hands up and down Cat's arms to warm her. "We'll get him back."

Catherine slowly swiveled her eyes to meet her friend's. "Get him back? Which piece do you think we'll find to bring back? Muirfield will already have Vincent on a slab, cutting him up into little pieces...Oh, God...he'll be already dead!" A gulping sob erupted past her lips and Tess hurriedly took the mug before the coffee ended up on the floor. Catherine covered her face with her hands and wept, shuddering as she bent double with the pain. J.T appeared in the doorway, his face stricken, his eyes meeting Tess's both aware that in all probability what Catherine said could be the truth.

Swallowing his own grief, J.T came further into the room. "They won't kill him, at least not right away. It wouldn't make sense, not from a scientific point of view. Vincent is more valuable alive than dead... I have to believe that." He spread his hands wide. "If they wanted him dead they would have shot him like they did Gabe...wouldn't they?"

Tess couldn't help herself and rolled her eyes. "Way to go, idiot. How does that make anything better?"

"No, Tess, he's right. Vincent would be more valuable alive, for a time at least." Catherine lifted her head and stared at J.T. "If you'd been hunting for Vincent all this time, you wouldn't just kill him out of hand, you'd want to study him, test him before you..." she shivered. "Before they cut him open."

"God, don't say that," Tess remonstrated. "We'll find him, won't we, J.T? You must have some way we can track him? What about his burner?"

J.T shook his head. "First thing I thought of. It must have been dropped or damaged. There's no signal to trace."

Catherine wiped her wet face with the edge of the blanket. "We need to pool everything we know about Muirfield, about their operation, every tiny bit of information you know, J.T. There has to be something in all that to tell us where they took him."

Sitting down heavily on the other side of her, J.T didn't speak for a moment, his brain turning over the possibilities. "We know Evan was in touch with them maybe I can track something through his phone messages. We know where their processing centre was, I can track the paperwork for the building, plus the one where they took the big guy before."

Catherine picked up his train of thought. "We can access Gabe's place, it's a crime scene after all. There might be something in his computer or paperwork that gives a lead."

"We could do a historical search of your mother's movements before she died..." Tess chimed in, the other two turning their heads to stare at her.

"What?" Tess stared back. " We know she was involved right from the start, maybe there is something in her paperwork stored at your fathers..." Tess suddenly stopped and her eyes widened. "Oh, my God, Cat...you're father!"

So consumed by the events surrounding Vincent's abduction and Gabe's death, Catherine had all but forgotten her father lying in a hospital bed.

"I have to go..." Throwing off the blanket she lurched to her feet, swaying so badly that Tess had to grab her to keep her upright.

"Cat, I don't think you're up to this right now."

"I don't have a choice. My father could be dying...I...I.. should be there. Heather will never forgive me..." Closing her eyes, Catherine gathered her strength before facing her two friends. "Tess, can you drive me to the hospital? J.T can you use my computer to do some of your research?"

"No problem. I have my tablet. Go and see your father, I'll call if I find anything."

Catherine gave him a grateful smile, albeit a small one. Turning to her best friend she nodded and the two women left the room with a grim purpose.

By the time they reached the hospital Catherine had herself under control, her face wiped clean of the ravages of her grief, her outward shell calm and ready to face her sister and father, all emotion locked up tight inside. Her heart may be bleeding but it didn't show as she made her way, Tess beside her, into the elevator then into the room where her sister and father waited. Thomas Chandlers had been moved out of emergency for his leg operation but was still swaddled in bandaging and hooked up to a barrage of monitors. Heather sat beside the bed holding her fathers hand, her head lifting with the opening of the door. Tess hung back as the two sisters regarded each other for a moment before embracing.

"How is he doing?" Catherine asked, pulling up a chair beside Heather.

"There's no change," Heather reported, resuming holding the lax hand laying on the bed covers. "He hasn't spoken or moved since you were here last. Where were you Cat?"

Heather's accusation made her flinch inwardly, but she didn't let it show.

"I had to be somewhere, Heather it was unavoidable."

"But..."

Catherine cut her off. "I'm here now, so bring me up to date on what the doctors had told you."

Heather drew in a breath, biting her lip before speaking. "They say his leg is pretty banged up and they're waiting to operate." Hesitating, Heather looked at her sister, wondering anew if the hospital screwed up somehow. "They said there was something wrong with your blood, so they took mine instead."

"My blood?"

"Yeah. I didn't really understand it, but they said there were no common somethingorother. You know I don't get all that scientific stuff."

"Never mind that now, is he going to be alright?"

"They think once they operate they'll be better placed to give a prognosis. Right now they have him in an induced coma...Oh, Cat he looks so bad..." Giving in to her impulse, Heather lay her head on Catherine's shoulder, sharing the burden of her grief and insecurity just for a moment.

Tess looked away, her own eyes welling up at her friends distress. Sometimes life just sucked.

An hour later and Brooke Chandler appeared, her face robbed of its beauty as she regarded her husband lying prone, his face all but obscured with bandaging.

"I didn't know...I just landed...I didn't..." Brooke choked out, tears falling unheeded down her cheeks, Heather giving up her chair for Brooke to take over the vigil.

Tess caught Catherine's eye and nodded, the two leaving Brooke and Heather to step out into the corridor.

"I've had a text from J.T," Tess announced, holding up her phone. Catherine read the message and closed her eyes for a moment.

"We can go now Brooke is here." Returning to the room, Catherine went over and put a hand on her sisters shoulder, drawing her attention away from the bed. "I have to go."

"Again!" Heather retorted sharply. "You've only been here a minute."

"This is important. There's nothing I can do for Dad here, but maybe there is something I can do out there. Call me if his condition changes." Giving her sister a quick hug and ignoring Heather's accusing look, Catherine left the hospital room, Tess hard on her heels.

"What did you find?"

J.T sat back in the chair and indicated the screen, a number of windows open while the top one scrolled independently, a series of numbers meaning nothing to Tess or Catherine. "I've been doing some digging, as well as compiling all we have on Muirfield to date. It's not much but with our recent experiences I've been researching the building we do know have belonged to the bastards." He clicked on one of the windows to bring up a list of information, tapping the screen to indicate a name half way down the list. "This keeps coming up in regards ownership, bill payment and other connections. It was buried deep, but I found it anyway."

Catherine read the name, it meaning nothing to her. "Who is he?"

"Whoever he is, he's connected to that Muirfield agent that died at your precinct, the one with no finger prints...er...Paul Davis, plus the computer nexus, the Orchard, that Vincent trashed, the block where they held him, the phone calls Evan made...everything."

"Is he connected to Gabe?" Tess asked, leaning forward to read the information.

"In a round about way, yes." J.T reported, opening another window that showed the expensive bugs found in Evan's morgue and Alex's apartment. "I went back to our old place and snooped about. I found one of these. It was well hidden, so well that I wouldn't have found it,but with the fire and explosion it was suddenly in plain view."

"Your place was bugged?" Cathering looked shocked. "I thought you had some sort of electronic blocking device?

"We did, but that was a fairly recent set up, we only had that since you...er...well since you started coming around." J. T felt his ears heat up, but Catherine didn't make a comment about that.

"So they've known about you and Vincent for some time now, probably months. Even before I found you."

"Look's like it. They were certainly monitoring our communications, your phone was bugged at least if that black ops attack was an indication. Who knows how long they've known not only where to find Vincent, but who's been helping him."

Tess met Catherine's eye. "We're all in their sights now...aren't we?"

"Yes. In fact I'm surprised we're still breathing, given their past clean up fervour." J.T added. "It's going to take a shit-load of tums to deal with this."

Catherine walked over to her couch and sank down, her shoulders slumped. "Why did they wait so long before acting?"

Tess sat down beside her. "My best guess is it would have drawn some unwanted attention to kill a cop, even more so one on special crimes. Even killing J.T would have been hard to ignore, and they wanted Vincent badly, maybe they were waiting for something to happen before snatching him."

"They wanted us dead when that team broke into the old place, they shot first without bothering to ask questions," Catherine added. "And someone came to collect those bodies...in Joe's office the other day, you told me an older man, someone called Reynolds. If we follow this to its conclusion that man was also from Muirfield, posing as FBI. God, how deep does this all go?"

"Maybe that's a lead too." Tess suggested. "If we get footage of him off the precinct security, we could use the FRS to identify him."

"Good idea. Something else, that man that Vincent killed at the old loading dock, he was in the alley behind the precinct, I spoke to him when they were collecting the bodies from the subway incident. He was also in Joe's office posing as FBI. I know he's dead but we could use footage for FRS as well." Catherine dry washed her face. "So many people are dead because of this organisation, who are they?"

Tess broke in. "They planted a virus on your computer when you did that search for Vincent and his unit, so whoever they are, they obviously think they are untouchable. Who has that sort of power?"

J.T decided it was time to speak. "I don't want to appear paranoid, but there are plenty of Government and military branches with just that sort of power. Hell, any of the forces investigative departments have access to satellite technology and cutting edge bugging equipment, let along the man power and resources to enforce it." Sitting back in his chair, J.T folded his arms and looked grim. "We're up against a well funded and aggressive organisation here, with little access to anything covert other than my limited hacking abilities."

"Those abilities have saved us more than once, J.T don't sell yourself short." Cathering offered, giving him a smile. "Tess and I will get the footage you need to do those screen captures and then we'll run them and see what they turn up. In the meantime we have jobs that need some time spent on them. I'll be asking Joe for leave using my Dad as an excuse, I have plenty in hand."

"I'll do the same," Tess added. "Joe owes me a favour or two. I'll also compile a list of the cases these bastards have had a hand in, including that journalist. There may be something we missed."

"Good idea, Tess." Catherine reached out and the two women clasped hands briefly. "Let's go."


	3. Part Three

Vincent paced his room with barely leashed energy, the Beast inside wanting to break out, to rip and shred someone, anything within reach. Instead he had only a metal bench fixed to a metal wall and a basic toilet in one corner beside a recessed sink. Nothing breakable or movable. A perfect cage with nothing to distract him from his thoughts.

Catherine was ever present in them, but his friend J.T also featured, Vincent worrying what was happening to them all. He could almost picture them, trying to figure out how to find him, how to rescue him. Of them working together and being frustrated at every turn. They say that hope is the last thing to die in any crisis, but Vincent was a realist and knew that hope, in his present situation, was a wasted emotion. They had buried him deep and it was unlikely he'd see the light of day ever again. The Beast twitched and he felt a deep seated grief well up inside him, rage and despair fighting for supremacy as his body accepted his utter helplessness and transformed with no holds barred.

In the small space his roar deafened him, echoing back in endless waves while his fists smashed repeatedly into the unyielding metal walls leaving dents but no tears, his claws only lightly scoring the surface. After several minutes of fruitless raging he forced the Beast back inside, his chest heaving as he fought to regain control. The last flicker of the Beast illuminated his eyes in a golden flare before the Beast subsided once more and Vincent was himself again. Feeling the need to channel his energy into something else he started doing press ups as hard and fast as he could, not bothering to keep count, just pushing himself to go harder and faster until his muscles burned and his breathing became gasps. Eventually his body rebelled and he collapsed; spent.

Laying on his back, gasping for air, he contemplated what he'd learnt from the older man.

It galled him that they'd known about his existence all the time, but didn't entirely surprise him. An organisation as well resourced as Muirfield had to have some heavy backers invested in the project, and keen to see a return. Evan had said they were working on a second generation of cross-species hybrids from what he'd seen, and if anyone knew about the science Evan did, second only to J.T.

Thinking about J.T made his worry again what was happening to his friends, to his love. Would Muirfield hunt them down? Had they survived the night? Would they survive trying to rescue him?

Would they even be able to try? His thoughts tormented him, running endlessly along corridors that always ended in a dead end.

Eventually he slept, exhausted in mind and body, the floors hardness disregarded as he curled up on his side, one arm supporting his head, his dreams unsettled and bleak.

The monitors had faithfully recorded their captive in every detail, the man watching them tapping a finger against his lip as he contemplated his next move. Now he'd met the man, he had a greater respect for Vanessa's work and the scope of the project. It had taken a decade for the ultimate goal to be reached, far longer than was hoped or expected, but nonetheless the evidence of its success was in front of him. Unlike Gabe, who could only retain his humanity with the aid of destructive and potentially lethal drugs, Vincent was the next evolution. It had just needed time and a catalyst to bring those changes into effect. That is was his own daughter that was that catalyst raised a whole new set of questions. How much influence was Catherine on the biology, or was it all co-incidence and Vincent would have evolved with, or without her intervention, or was that very intervention essential to the evolutionary process?

Steepling his fingers, the man watched the monitors and pondered the unanswerable without both parts of the equation available for study. Catherine Chandler would need to be brought in before they could progress the project any further.

The thought of having Vanessa's daughter here to be studied raised only the barest twinge of guilt. Catherine had been too long out of his thoughts to be more than the most fleeting of considerations against the scope of the Chimera Project. Given that is had already been proved in a roundabout way that Vincent's physiology was possibly capable of affecting his lover's biology with close contact and sharing of dna, it raised a whole new set of issues that could only be proved by having Catherine and her beastly lover continue their liason to its inevitable conclusion.

That one of the test subjects would be his own daughter was something he preferred not to think about too deeply. The project was everything, an individual nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Swivelling in his chair he got to his feet and left the surveillance room for a meeting with his team of scientists. Decisions would need to be made.

Catherine's adopted father remained in critical, his recovery unchanged, Heather and Brooke sharing their vigil at his bedside. Catherine, still unaware of the reason for his contacting her, focused all her energies on gathering intel on Muirfield by any means possible. Joe had granted her leave without question, for as long as she needed or as long as her father remained on the critical list. Tess had delayed her leave by a couple of days to gather the necessary files and footage they needed to start a search for the people they suspected were involved in the Muirfield conspiracy, as they started to call it. It had all started with the first case over a year ago, so they started there with the bodies in the subway, plus the collecting all the file notes on each case involving Vincent since, including Evan's notes which revealed several unknown players. In the end their list of players grew to include Gabe and his accomplices and girlfriend, until they covered an entire wall of the mansion where J.T and Vincent had been living. With each new bit of footage recovered they added a new face to the wall, a new string connecting the faces to events, building up a picture of the last year.

They worked steadily, plucking facts out of case files, building information from plans and records, names harvested from documents and J.T's hacking skills.

By the end of the second day they had tracked down every bit of information and placed it on the wall. Feeling a sense of accomplishment, they sat back and surveyed it in its entirety.

"Shit, if I wasn't so paranoid, I'd be impressed." J.T leaned back and placed his hands behind his head, a satisfied smile tilting his lips.

"Have we missed anyone?" Catherine asked, checking the wall against a list she held in one hand.

"Not that I can see," Tess chimed in, stifling a yawn, fatigue making her forget for the time being the face that had stared up at her from Thomas Chandlers iPad.

Catherine glanced up at the wall, the image of Vincent that had so enthralled her a year ago, staring back at her and making her heart skip a beat. Swallowing a sudden lump in her throat, she forced herself to look away. blinking back threatening tears. Emotions wouldn't help Vincent and if she gave in to them she'd quite possibly never be able to stop.

"We have a timeline starting with nine eleven when Vincent first signed up, to the time we know my mother returned to the states. We now need to fill in the blanks of the ten years between my mother's death when I was nineteen and when I met Vincent a year ago."

"You're mother's notes might help with that," said J.T. "We know she had a diary of the time before, and when a person is into keeping a diary, the habit is hard to break."

"It's a possibility. I'll need to go to Dad's and search for something more recent. With him and Brooke at the hospital that should be easy."

"I'll come with you." Tess announced, giving a shrug when Catherine raised an eyebrow. "It'll be faster with the two of us looking."

Tess chewed her lip and stared out of the car window, kicking herself for not mentioning all this before, torn about not telling Cat what she'd finally remembered about Thomas Chandlers iPad. Tess suspected that Vincent and J.T knew more than they were telling about Catherine's family and past, but it was Tess in the car with Catherine, about to rifle her dead mother's belongings with uncomfortable revelations likely to be found in the pages of a diary yet to be discovered. Could Tess really leave it for Catherine to find out for herself, or should she tell what she read on the iPad?

"You're very preoccupied?" Catherine's voice broke into her thoughts and made her flinch.

"Oh...er...yeah. Hey, I was wondering...um...when did you parents get married?"

Catherine glanced over at her, a frown marring her brow. "Nineteen eighty three, why?"

"The year you were born?"

"Yeah. Where are you going with this?"

Tess sighed. "There's something you ought to know, Cat. I took your Dad's iPad down to tech, and got Freddy to look at it. He got it to go, at least well enough that I could see the last entry. An email sent a few days ago, from Homeland Security."

"You're kidding, right? What has my Dad got to do with Homeland Security? What was in the email?"

"Look, I think maybe you should pull over," Tess suggested. Catherine gave her a long look before doing just that.

"Right, what is this all about?"

"There was an email addressed to your Dad from Homeland Security showing the image of a man, the message was alerting him that the man had been tagged coming into the states."

"Did it have a name, who is he?"

"The name was obscured, but it said he'd entered the states and it was classified top security."

Catherine stared at Tess for several long moments, then looked away.

"And something else," Tess continued. "I didn't remember until his image was put on that wall, he's the same guy who was the FBI agent who collected Davis's body. The one in Joe's office."

"This is a nightmare." Dropping her head again on to her hands, she groaned.

"What is it, Cat?"

"At the hospital...my sister, Heather...she said..." Cat shook her head. "Why would my father need to see me so urgently? What is this man he was so concerned about he had to talk to me right away?"

"What happened at the hospital, what did Heather say?" Tess urged.

"She said...there was something wrong with my blood, that she had to give blood instead of me. Something to do with not having common...Oh, my God, he's not my Dad, is he?" Catherine lowered her head again to the steering wheel, overcome with the enormity of the truth battering her.

"Cat, get a grip, of course he's your Dad...isn't he?" Tess laid a hand on Cat's arm.

Drawing in a shuddering breath Catherine raised her head, casting an anguished look at her best friend. "Oh, Tess...has my whole life just been a huge lie? If Thomas Chandler isn't my father, who the hell is?"

"Maybe your mother's diaries will clear this up."

"If my mother is my mother. What a mess." Catherine restarted the car and pulled back on to the road, her head a mass of conflicting feelings. The sooner they found the diaries the better.

Tess found the hidden compartment while Catherine was still searching through the boxes in the basement.

"Cat, Cat come quick!"

Taking the stairs two at a time Catherine arrived breathless in her father's bedroom. Tess was sitting on the bed, an empty shoe box at her side and several diaries spread around her.

"I found this behind a panel in the wardrobe. They're your mother's personal diaries, Cat. From what I can tell they stop the day she died, but start a week before you were born."

"The boxes of my mother's research are gone, cleared out." Catherine informed Tess. "I can't tell if it was Dad's...er...his doing or someone else has taken them." Picking up the closest journal, Catherine started to read excerpts at random.

"Look, there's no telling how much time we have," said Tess. "Let's pack these up and get going. The three of us can read faster than one back at J.T's."


	4. Part Four

Time became meaningless to Vincent, the constant light source giving no indication of day or night, his only source of sustenance being the water from the recessed sink. No one came to check on him, no sign that anyone was watching him, although he was sure a hidden camera was keeping tabs on his movements. He could hear the faintest of whirring as if a lens was turning to magnify its image. Beyond that small sound he was unable to hear anything else beyond the beating of his own heart and the blood pumping through his veins. His special vision was of no help, and the walls were proof against his enhanced strength.

His thoughts inevitably turned to Catherine and her last act; injecting him with a virus to kick-start his immune system, enabling the Beast within to emerge and engage with Gabe. He'd never know if he could have defeated the first generation Beast, Gabe shot by the man and his minions before the fight had ended. His last image of Catherine, face upturned to his, her anguish plain, would haunt him forever. Their chance of a future had been snatched away, their brief moments together the only legacy left to remember. Whatever happened to him, if he lived or died, those few echoes of a normal life would have to sustain him.

A click was the only warning he had before a door opened and the familiar feel of a dart pricking his skin registered before blackness once more dragged him down into oblivion.

His next conscious thought was one of cold, his attempts to move hampered by thick straps holding him down at his shoulders, over his ribs, across his thighs, knees and ankles. He'd been stripped of his clothes, the metal table cold at his back. His mind jumped to thinking it an autopsy table and he started to struggle in earnest, the residual effects of the tranquilizer keeping the Beast chained.

"Stop moving about unless you want to be full of holes!" A female voice reprimanded him, his head swivelling to regard a woman in full surgical scrubs, a mask obscuring all but her eyes.

"Is this where you cut me up?!" Vincent snarled, continuing to flex his limbs in a vain attempt to free himself.

"Unless you know of a need for surgery, Mister Keller, I'm only here to hook up an intravenous line and check your vitals, but I can't do anything while you're moving about like that."

Vincent paused, panting heavily, his dark eyes dilated wide with fear. "Why am I strapped to this fucking table if not to dissect me?"

"Mister Keller, I have no such orders, other than to get fluids into you and check your baseline settings for blood pressure etcetera. I'll be done in a few minutes if you'll just co-operate."

Vincent eyed the woman's hand that was still holding the needle for the intravenous line. His gaze darted around the room, but there was nothing unduly threatening that he could see, no huge lights or strange instruments, only a single heart monitor, blood pressure cuff and the woman. Behind her was a support for a bag of what looked like ordinary saline.

The woman continued to stare down at him, her hands not moving as she watched him make up his own mind that there was nothing threatening about to happen. The straps and his naked state was not exactly normal, but she wasn't about to disobey orders.

"Will you let me put in this line? Or do I need to call in reinforcements. I can assure you they won't be as nice as me." She finally stated, one eyebrow raised.

Vincent tried to calm his racing heart, his panic subsiding with each breath. "I don't suppose you could loosen these straps any."

"You'd suppose right, Mister Keller. I am fully aware of your capabilities and I'm sure the lack of clothing wouldn't slow you down at all." Runing her finger along his forearm, she searched for the perfect spot, the needle sliding in with practised ease. Turning away she brought the line closer before hooking it up to the drip and adjusting the rate to her satisfaction.

Vincent watched her every move, the woman well aware of his intent gaze, her movements measured and confident as she took his blood pressure, both eyebrows rising at the result before removing the cuff.

"You have a remarkable constitution, Mister Keller, to go from full blown panic back to normal with the speed you just did. I'm impressed."

Vincent stared at the ceiling, ignoring her while she pressed plastic discs attached to wires over his chest, side and feet to monitor his heart rate and blood flow. Finally she attached a monitor to one of his fingers to get a read out of his blood oxygen levels.

Finally she removed all the sensors, scribbled some notes on a clip board and prepared to leave.

"What happens now?" Vincent growled, unable to keep a note of concern out of his voice.

"Now you wait, and I go and submit my test results. Please don't struggle, you'll only hurt yourself. The restraints have been tested to well beyond even your ability to break them."

"You have no idea of my abilities," Briefly he let the Beast peep through, his eyes flaring gold, the woman letting out a gasp before turning and almost running out of the room.

Letting his head fall back, Vincent resumed his perusal of the ceiling, his eyes changing from glowing gold to a deeper hue, his vision switching to infrared as he tested the limits of the room. After a thorough scan he blinked and switched his vision back to normal. The drip in his wrist stung a little but otherwise his level of discomfort was slight. As long as he kept his panic under control he could bear the straps, even bear being naked and cold.

His mind drifted, dozing lightly until someone new entered the room and he snapped awake, his nose telling him it was a man. He remained motionless until the man walked into his line of vision. Instantly all his muscles tensed as he stared up into the features of Kyle, the man responsible for shooting Evan, as well as hunting Vincent in the tunnels.

The darkly exotic man stared down at Vincent, a small smile playing around his mouth.

"If I had my way, you wouldn't still be alive. I'd have had you dissected and placed in little jars for display, a curiosity, a mutant creature fit only for experimentation."

Vincent didn't reply, letting the Beast speak for him, the straps straining to contain his arms and legs, the man before him taking a hasty step backwards.

"Back off, Kyle. Don't torment him, he's not some snake you can poke to get a reaction." The older man stepped forward, pushing his associate backward and out of the room completely. In the corridor they faced off, the larger older man leaning over the younger, slighter man menacingly.

"Don't do that again, Kyle. You'll get only one warning."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yes. Keep away from Keller. You've done your part, now leave the rest to me."

For a moment they locked eyes, then the younger man looked away.

"You won't be allowed to keep your pet indefinitely. They won't let you." With that parting shot, Kyle left.

Turning back to enter the room, the older man approached the bench, marvelling anew at how easily Vincent managed his animal side. Reaching the end of the gurney he started to unbuckle the strap holding Vincent's ankles.

Vincent watched him warily, unsure of this new twist in the plot, his body rigidly still while each strap was unbuckled until all were thrown clear leaving him free. Slowly, mindful of the needle still in his arm, Vincent swung his legs over to the edge of the gurney and sat sideways, his hands resting on the metal edge.

"My name is Reynolds and you're probably wondering if this is another trick. It isn't." Walking over to a concealed cupboard, Reynolds pulled out some clothing and tossed it to Vincent. "Get dressed and we'll talk."

Vincent held up the wrist with the needle and drip still attached. "Getting this out first would be helpful."

Walking to the doorway, Reynold yelled for someone, the woman who'd put the needle in quickly appearing and removing it while Vincent sat quiescent, absorbing the change in circumstances without a twitch of the Beast surfacing. Once free of the needle, Vincent donned the loose clothing and stood, barefoot but unrestrained.

"What now?" he asked, flexing his shoulders in a casual gesture not unobserved by the other man.

"First, the ground rules. There is no escape from where you are now. There is no way anyone can break in, or you break out. Understand this basic fact and your stay here will be vastly more bearable. Also understand that your life expectancy is ruled by your ability to abide by the first rules. Nobody here underestimates your abilities one bit. What weapons there are, are designed to incapacitate, not kill. No one here is so precious they aren't expendable in a hostage situation. So that tactic is also pointless. Are we clear on this?"

Vincent continued to regard him silently. Reynolds cleared his throat before continuing.

"You were...are... the only surviving participant in the original Chimera Project. Gabriel Lowen was the only other survivor, smuggled out by Vanessa Chandler. He is now dead. You are more valuable to us alive than dead, but don't think that gives you any leeway. We can still use you while you're trussed up like a turkey ready for roasting, or doped to the gills. It's your call. You can co-operate and live to fight another day, or fight now and lose all chance of ever seeing Catherine Chandler ever again."

"Catherine Chandler is nothing to me, why do you keep talking about her as if she is?" Vincent bluffed.

Reynold laughed softly. "A useless gambit, Vincent. We know precisely what Catherine is to you, how important she is, and what effect she has on you. You are lovers,and she would do anything to protect you, as you would her. Do I need to say more?"

Vincent glowered, the Beast making a brief appearance before subsiding again. He didn't take Reynolds threats lightly. "So what now?"

"Now we go eat and I organise a series of tests to see just what your limits are."

"I'm not your fucking lab rat!" Vincent growled, the Beast rising again to glare gold and angry at Reynolds.

"But you are a slow learner, apparently. Do I need to give you a demonstration...again?"

Reluctantly Vincent shook his head, beating the Beast back into the recess of his mind with a snarl of frustration.

"Good." Waving Vincent forward, Reynolds indicated the doorway, Vincent walking out of the room with his head high and all his senses on alert.


	5. Part Five

It took a week for them to reach the conclusion that wherever Vincent had been taken, it was no longer on United States soil, two to establish that he was nowhere on the North American continent. Catherine stared at the facts and figures with fatigue rimmed eyes, her hair scraped back from her face, her clothes rumpled. Beside her J.T yawned expansively before taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

"It's no good. I've checked and checked again. For all intents and purposes, Muirfield have shut up shop and gone God-knows-where. All I do know is it's not anywhere here in the states, Mexico or Canada."

Catherine leaned forward, folded her arms on the desk top and rested her head on them. She was so tired her eyelashes ached. "Could we have missed something, J.T?"

"Of course we could have missed something, but I'm damn sure we've covered pretty much everything. Without direct access to your Dad and what he knows, that's the only avenue we haven't been able to access. Face it, Catherine, he's been taken beyond our reach." Pushing away from the desk, J.T flung away and paced the room, frustration in every line of his body.

Catherine stayed where she was, too tired to move or react to what she already believed in her heart. Vincent was lost to her, to them, and nothing they could do would either find him or bring him back.

Her mother's diaries lay scattered about the floor at her feet, bright yellow post-it's marking pertinent passages, but despite reading every word within their pages, she was no nearer to knowing who her biological father was. In the end she knew her mother no better now than she did before.

"I'm tired. I'm going to bed." Dragging herself to her feet, Catherine left J.T to his pacing and entered her bedroom, falling face first on to her unmade bed and falling instantly asleep. Her dreams were all of Vincent, of his arms around her, his lips against hers, of his scent surrounding her, enveloping her. She never felt the prick of the needle or heard the brief fight ensue in her living room. She didn't feel the arms that lifted her and carried her out of the apartment into a waiting van to be carried away by agents of the very organisation she was trying to find.

When J.T finally roused from his drug induced stupor it was to find the apartment trashed, all their painstakingly collected evidence stolen and a panicky Tess standing over him.

Vincent prepared to climb the wall again, the artificial rock face looming high above his head, the cracks and fissures, ledges and holes as realistic as possible. A techie stood to one side, clipboard and stopwatch in hand. At a small signal from him, Vincent started his climb, finding hand holds and toe holds is the deceptively smooth surface, his muscles working as smoothly this time as they had for the other ten attempts, each one faster and smoother than the last. Within seconds he was at the summit and sitting with his feet dangling, looking down at the tech far below. A door opened at the far end of the room and a familiar figure appeared. Feeling the urge to show off, Vincent let the Beast emerge and jumped, the tech shouting a warning seconds before Vincent landed on all fours, eyes blazing gold. In an instant he was standing normally, the Beast under his control and the tech standing with his mouth hanging open, the clipboard dropped to clatter on the floor at his feet.

Reynolds started a slow clap as he walked towards the wall.

"If it was anyone else, I'd say you enjoyed that."

Vincent lowered his head to hide the small smile playing about his mouth. When he raised his head next the smile was gone. "Maybe I jumped just because I can."

Reynold grinned. "No, I don't think so. You wanted poor Bradley to have a heart attack." Reynolds turned to face the tech. "Shut your mouth, Bradley, you can go now. I'll escort Vincent back to his room."

"Yes, sir." Bradley stopped to collect his fallen clipboard and beat a hasty retreat.

Vincent folded his arms across his chest and waited for Reynolds to speak. In the time he'd been held captive, he'd learnt to be patient with the older man. Pushing achieved nothing, but patience was sometimes rewarded with snippets of information.

The door shut behind the tech and Reynold stood for a moment staring up at the climbing wall.

"I'm sure you already know this, but you've managed to improve your time with each attempt. Most men would slow down, but you seem to get faster and stronger the more you push. Why is that?"

Vincent shrugged. "You tell me, you made me."

"Vanessa Chandler created you, but even she would be amazed at your evolution. I'm starting to wonder if your mutations are entirely due to the dna manipulation, or if it's something special to you."

"I'm was nothing special, just a soldier avenging the losses of 911."

"You were different, Vincent. When the others were rampaging out of control, you sought out Doctor Chandler, you saved her. Why is that? Why weren't you out there with the others?"

Vincent shifted uncomfortably. "I don't remember much about that."

"What do you remember?" Reynolds asked.

Vincent sucked in his bottom lip and lowered his head to stare at the floor. "I remember everything being in flames, of shrapnel flying everywhere. I found myself at the medi-center, but couldn't find Doctor Chandler. I heard shouting so I hid, and then she was there, plus the Lieutenant. They argued and he threatened her. I jumped him, he cut me, he died. Everything is a blank after that until I landed on the doorstep of my friend. The rest you know...apparently."

"Memory loss is certainly a side effect, but your memory since you reached the States has not been impaired?"

"No."

"And your tests show some extraordinary developments. Your hearing was already documented at the time by the good Doctor, but your other senses, they only developed later?"

"Yes."

"After you were contacted by Catherine Chandler." Reynolds stated, watching Vincent closely.

"Coincidence." Vincent retorted, raising his head to meet the older man's stare.

"Ah, Vincent. Hasn't anyone ever told you there is no such thing as coincidence?" Walking away from the wall, Reynolds indicated for Vincent to follow. "There's some one I'd like you to see."

They walked along familiar corridors to start with, then Reynolds took a left instead of a right and all Vincent's senses clicked on. Despite the sameness of the research center, Vincent knew all the rooms he's been taken to or used. Now they were travelling along a new route and something in the air was nagging at him, something was pulling at his memory.

"Where are we going?" Vincent asked, flexing his hands but keeping his voice even.

"I told you, to see someone."

"Who?"

"You'll see. You've worked hard these weeks since you've been here. You have provided all that we've asked and more."

"So I deserve a treat...like a good dog?" Vincent couldn't keep the edge of sarcasm out of his voice.

"Something like that," Reynold replied.

They reached a door that opened onto a darkened room with a one way window looking into another. Reynolds blocked Vincent's view for a moment then moved out of the way. Vincent glanced into the room and instantly froze, his hackles rising and the Beast appearing between one breath and the next. He spun around to attack Reynolds but found himself facing a loaded tranq gun.

"Back off, Vincent. Tame the beast or I'll use this."

Snarling his rage, Vincent turned back to the window and flattened his hands against the cold glass.

On the other side of the pane was a room containing just one occupant, apparently asleep, curled up on her side under the covers, her dark hair spread out over the pillow.

"Catherine..." Vincent's exhale fogged the glass, his eyes sweeping over the slight figure, devouring the sight of her like a starving man. He tormented himself by thinking he could hear her breathing, hear her heart beat, as familiar as his own. "Catherine..." His nostrils flared as if smelling her scent, her perfume intoxicating and unmistakable. Unable to bear the sight of her, he pushed away from the glass and turned his head away. "Why?"

Reynolds, seeing that Vincent was once more himself, lowered the gun but kept the safety off.

"We need to see how her presence affects you, if she has any influence over your physiological reactions. If the tests prove negative she will be returned to her life unharmed."

"And the alternative?" Vincent ground out, his eyes still glowing an unearthly gold in the dim room.

"That is yet to be decided." Reynolds watched the battle rage as Vincent fought the Beast wanting to be unleashed, the muscles shifting across the broad shoulders while a tracery of blue veins ebbed and waned across Vincent's neck and down his arms. At length the battle was won and Vincent approached the glass again, resting his head against it as he watched the woman asleep on the other side.

"Have you hurt her?"

"No. Just kept her drugged, but she'll be coming out of it soon. I'd like you to be there when she wakes up." Reynolds watched as Vincent's shoulders relaxed completely and he lifted his head.

"Let me in there."

Indicating for Vincent to leave the room, Reynolds followed him out after casting a brief glance at his daughter still sleeping, unaware of the drama unfolding only a room away. Vincent waited for Reynolds to use his pass card to open the next door down the hallway, the man standing back and letting Vincent go first, not following him but instead shutting and locking the door behind him.

Vincent stood just inside the room and listened to the locks click into place before he moved silently across to the bed, there to gaze down at the woman laying there. Seeing her like this, knowing that she was as much a captive as he was, had been drugged and kidnapped from her life and brought to heavenknewwhere, almost brought him to his knees. Instead he reached out with his senses. He could hear her heart beat, could see her breathing, feel the soft waft of breath passing her lips, see the faint flutter of her pulse in her throat, sense the warmth emanating from her skin, smell her scent like the sweetest perfume. He opened himself up to all that she was to him, his bare feet walking him around to the other side of the bed, his knees carrying him across the covers so that he could lay down beside her, his arms snaking over her waist to settle about her and draw her carefully back against him, his face burrowing into her hair as he settled around her, fitting together like two missing pieces of a puzzle. Her heat reached out to him, enveloped him and soothed him. His heart slowed until it matched hers; beat for beat. For a few moments he shut out all that had happened to him, forgot the watchers making notes and recording it all, all that mattered was the woman breathing beside him and his longed for chance to hold her in his arms again.

He lay there with his eyes closed, his hand spread over her ribs, feeling her breath in and out, everything about her acting like a balm, as she always had.

"Vincent..." As soft as a sigh, his name dropped from her lips and he raised himself up on his elbow to look down at her. Catherine still had her eyes closed, but her lips moved to whisper his name again, her hand moving up to cover his, delicate fingers dancing over his until they laced together, entwined, unbreakable. "Vincent..." Catherine's eyelashes fluttered and then lifted, her eyes meeting his, a smile breaking over her lips like the sun rising. "I've had so many dreams of you but this is the most real. I almost believe that you're here, with me."

Ducking his head, Vincent kissed her shoulder, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're not dreaming, love. I'm here, this is real." He saw the moment she realised the truth, her eye widening with a flash of fear, her body tensing before she turned and flung her arms about his neck, her lips on his in a kiss of desperation laced with the fear of being ripped away again. He was just as scared that it wouldn't be allowed to continue, his hands flattened against her back holding her to him, her fingers combing through his hair while their mouths and tongues greeted each other hungrily. Catherine eventually pulled back, but only enough so her fingers could trace his features, nails brushing over the stubble on his cheeks, her eyes darting over his face, looking for hurts.

"I'm okay," he assured, her, kissing her again with a passion that wouldn't be restrained. Catherine responded, fighting the covers to get her legs free, to wrap herself around him and never let go.

She mewed against his mouth in frustration and Vincent pulled back. "Easy love, we're not exactly alone here, and as much as I'd like to rip these clothes off you, I'm not prepared to make love with an audience."

Catherine instantly stilled, her eyes once more showing a flash of fear. "Where are we?"

"I don't know. Somewhere underground, but that's all I know."

Catherine looked over Vincent's shoulder at the room around them. There were no visible camera's but the mirror on one wall was obviously an observation room. She turned her head to meet his contrite gaze.

"I'm so sorry they've done this to you," Vincent said, brushing the hair back off her face.

"I'm not," Catherine retorted, astounding him. "I've been out of my mind imagining what they've been doing to you. I thought..." She closed her eyes briefly, "I thought they would have killed you right away, that you'd might already be dead."

"Catherine, God I'm sorry you had to go through that. What changed your mind?"

Catherine smiled. "J.T. He managed to convince us that you were too valuable to be killed, that it wouldn't be logical for them to do that."

Vincent smiled back. "He was right...as usual. They have me doing tests every day. Catherine they know all there is to know about me, and you. They always have."

"I know. It was the only logical conclusion for them to know where we were, where you and Gabe were. Tyler is dead. She got away from J.T but was shot not far from your place."

"And Gabe?"

"Dead." Catherine stated, her eyes darting around the room before coming back to his face. "How long do we have before they separate us again?"

"I don't know. Catherine they've brought you here because they believe you are the reason I've been evolving so quickly this past year."

"Me?"

"Yes. They think that somehow you are affecting the changes."

"How on earth am I doing that?"

"I don't know, but it's the reason they kidnapped you and brought you here. I'm sorry..."

"Don't." Catherine cut him off, her expression fierce. "I'd rather be here, with you, than back there not knowing. We're stronger together than apart, Vincent, you know that." Leaning in she kissed him again, Vincent deepening it and pulling her close again. Catherine pressed closer, luxuriating in the strength of his arms, imprinting the feel of his body on her own, her hands roaming over his shoulders and back, relearning his contours. She breathed in deeply, absorbing his unique scent, his taste. Heat rose between them and she wanted to melt in to him, surround him. Vincent seemed to feel the same, his lips leaving hers to roam over her face, her neck, a growl deep in his throat while his fingers traced over her back and lower, all the time his breath leaving a scorching path over her skin.

"Oh, God, Vincent we have to stop..." Catherine gasped, on the brink of coming apart in his arms just from their kissing.

A throaty purr was his only reply, but he did slow down, bringing his face back up to hers and nipping at her lips, his eyes heavy lidded and tinged with gold. "I want you so badly..."

"I know, I do too, but...the audience?"

Vincent's head landed heavily on her shoulder, his breathing ragged against her neck. Slowly he pulled back, his eyes never leaving hers even as he put distance between them. The Beast inside him seemed to mock him, the temptation of having Catherine so close and so receptive making is next to impossible to completely break all physical contact. Instead he drew himself to sit up against the head of the bed, Catherine moving with him so they sat, his arm about her while she tucked into his side, her head on his shoulder, the passion between them tempered by their situation.

Almost at once the door opened and Reynolds walked in, Vincent immediately bristling into the Beast without conscious thought, his body blocking Catherine's view of the man, protecting her with flesh and bone, claws and teeth. A soft hand on his arm drew him back to her, the Beast subsided and he turned his head to look at her.

Reynolds watched it all with a barely concealed satisfaction. It would seem his theories were going to be proved right after all.

Catherine stared at the man approaching the bed, her hand still on Vincents arm. She could feel tremors running under his skin as he fought to keep the Beast contained. Swinging her legs to the side of the bed she waited, Vincent a solid presence at her back.

"Who are you?" She asked, not asking his name.

"As you will have already guessed, this is Muirfield, or to give it it's proper name, the Chimera Project."

"Chimera Project?" Catherine felt Vincent's arm tense under her fingers.

"A project that has been running for more than twenty years. Gabriel Lowen was part of the first induction, our first generation you might say. Vincent here is part of the last phase which was finalised ten years ago. Since then there has been little progress, just some transitional experiments."

"Evan saw those at the last place you tried to imprison Vincent. He said you were working towards a second generation."

"A great shame about Marks, I read the report. He was quite some way along in his research."

"A great shame? You shot him in cold blood!" Catherine cried, rising to her feet, Vincent at her side.

"Kyle exceeded his orders, but Doctor Marks did put himself in the way."

"He was protecting me!" Catherine spat, bristling at his dismissive attitude.

"He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, end of discussion."

This time is was Vincent's hand on her arm that calmed the situation.

"This won't bring Evan back." He told her huskily. Catherine turned her head to meet his eyes, then nodded, a tiny movement only he saw, the sheen of tears in her eyes making his heart contract.

Swallowing, Catherine once more faced Reynolds, her emotions under control again.

"What now?" she asked, head high. Behind her back her fingers sought Vincents, his finding hers until they were once more entwined.

"Now we negotiate. Vincent has been very co-operative for us. We've been trying to test his abilities and if he was any other man, he'd be run ragged by now. Instead he seems to be thriving on the challenges. Now the testing moves into a new phase and for that we needed you."

Catherine felt Vincents fingers flex against hers. "Why me?"

"Because he loves you more than his own life." Reynolds stated flatly. "And because we think that you have somehow influenced his evolution, we need to study you both...together, and monitor you physiological affect on Vincent."  
"You what?" Catherine understood what he was saying, she just didn't think he was being serious. "I don't have any physiological, psychological or an logical effect on Vincent."

Reynolds shrugged. "Then how do you account for the fact that since interacting with you, Vincent has evolved more in the last twelve months than at any time in the past decade."

Catherine laughed. "How should I know? You're the ones messing with human and animal dna."

"Exactly. But the fact remains that Vincents abilities when he left our care were in a plateau state, but since he's starting interracting with you he's developed abilities that were never factored in for any of our test subjects."

"How would you know, you killed them all!" Catherine retorted, ignoring Vincent's warning squeeze. "Vincent is all you have left."

Reynolds, arms folded over his chest, regarded her with a faintly smug expression. "For now. But that will change...in time." Turning on his heel, he prepared to leave, Catherine taking a step to follow him but held back by Vincent. When she turned to shake off his grip, he shook his head. By the time she had turned back Reynolds had left the room, the door shutting emphatically behind him.

"Why did you stop me?" she asked, sitting back on the edge of the bed. Vincent sat beside her, his arm about her shoulders.

"Because he wasn't going to tell you anything more. You were getting angry for no good purpose."

Catherine let out a huff before turning her face up to his. "I hate it when you're right. What do you think they're going to do with us?"

Vincent gave her a crooked smile. "How good are you at rock climbing?"


	6. Part Six

Tess had no choice but to report Catherine as missing. J.T had quickly exhausted all avenues available to him, there was simply nothing to tell where she had been taken. With all their research gone as well there wasn't any way they could collect it all again, and Tess had to admit she didn't have the heart for it. After swearing at the invisible forces ranged against them, J.T had to agree with her. Catherine and Vincent had disappeared from the real world and neither of their friends knew if they would ever surface again. Muirfield had won.

Tess had to break the news of Catherine disappearance to her family, Heather taking it hard especially when it became clear that there was little to go on, and next to no hope of finding out the why or who if ever. There were just so many questions Tess couldn't, or thought best not to answer. Catherine's father survived the operation to repair his shattered leg and was finally on the road to recovery, although still in a coma for the head injury. Brooke made regular trips between home and the hospital, working out a roster with Heather so Thomas was never alone in case he woke up. Tess felt a burden of guilt not being able to tell them the truth, but given their already heavy load of anxiety over Thomas Chandler, she consoled herself it was probably for the best.

J.T returned to his university lecturing and picked up the threads of his old life, but kept in regular contact with Tess, the pair of them forming a close bond over their shared loss.

Tess returned to the precinct minus her partner, so was assigned another. Joe could tell that something bigger than a straightforward disappearance had taken place, but Tess remained tight lipped about her friend, and eventually when all leads ended in dead ends the file was rubber stamped unresolved. Tess got drunk that night and rang J.T, who joined her on the roof of Catherine's building, sitting together under Vincent's lights, drowning their grief and anger in several bottles of bourbon and beer.

It was two months after Vincent's abduction, and six weeks since Catherine's disappearance before they had a clue as to where their friends had been taken.

J.T found the folded note pushed under Catherine's apartment door. He had taken over her place, sleeping in the spare room and paying the rent, rather than stay in the echoing mansion he and Vincent had been using. Heather was staying with Brooke, and hadn't objected when J.T had suggested keeping Catherine's apartment as she'd left it. Heather understood that J.T was doing it for her sister out of friendship and accepted the white lies that J.T told her about the possibility that Catherine could turn up out of the blue some day. Heather was even romantic enough to suggest that Catherine and Vincent Zalansky could have run away together, without considering that her sister would never have left without telling someone, would never have left the job she loved, or the family she cared about as well as her best friend, without a word.

Tess supported the idea as well, wanting more than anything to keep her friend 'alive', that fervent hope rewarded when J.T phoned and told her about the note.

That night the two friends pored over the few lines and tried to understand what it meant, and what they should do about it.

"They are safe and alive. Be patient. Have hope."

Vincent entered their quarters silently, a quick glance showing that Catherine was probably in the bathroom. The tests that day had been particularly strenuous, the burn in his muscles testament to how hard he'd pushed himself. If he was remotely vain he'd have spent a moment admiring himself in the mirrored window, his arms burnished with sweat and his shoulders impressively wide. Instead he stripped off his t-shirt and padded bare-foot over to the sliding door, easing it back before slipping inside. The room was full of steam from the shower, the slender outline inside reaching up to smooth her hair back from her face. Catherine smiled as Vincent's presence entered the spacious cubicle behind her. Large, warm hands reached around and cupped her breasts while equally warm lips nibbled and kissed her shoulders and neck. Their shared shower had become an almost daily ritual, a moment of privacy, screened from prying eyes, for them both. Catherine leaned back against Vincent's chest and let his hands roam freely, her own hands reaching back to stroke his flank and thighs, his skin slick and hard. Within seconds she was writhing in his arms, his busy hands making free with her body while his mouth devoured her damp skin hungrily. With a cry she turned to face him, mouths clashing wetly, bodies moving together in a slick dance. Vincent lifted her and Catherine let her head fall back while she clung to his shoulders, her legs wrapped around his hips as they moved together, the shower wall hard against her back as Vincent took her with a power that left her breathless. Safe in his arms she let herself go, glorying in his strength, his gentleness, his maleness, only opening her eyes at the end when she knew him close to completion, his beautiful eyes glowing a deep gold as he came within her, both of them shuddering with the force of it.

Vincent rested his head against Catherine's shoulder, his chest heaving. He could feel the Beast simmering and impatient inside him, felt the last lingering sparks tracing fire along his veins. Slowly he lowered Catherine back to the tiled floor, her hands drifting over him like a soft butterflies, calming him and soothing, those same fingers finding his tense muscles and massaging, relaxing him even as the warm water pounded against his skin.

"I love you." Her voice whispered to him and he sought her mouth, kissing her deeply.

"I love you more..."

Their life settled into a regular pattern, or as regular as any captive can be given their extraordinary situation. Sure, they were being tested like lab rats, given tasks to perform with results catalogued, noted and recorded. They were also separated for long periods, for how long they never knew as clocks were no where in evidence and the day, such as it was, only broken by meal breaks and sleep. But whatever they were doing, they were always scheduled to end at the same time so that they were returned or arrived within minutes of each other at their quarters, allowing them to indulge in their shower routine more often than not.

The first time had been explosive, neither giving the other time to shed their clothes before giving in to their desire and getting as close as two people can, all hidden in a sheltering cloud of steam. It was the one moment of their day they could be free to express their true feelings. They never made love in the bed, although they slept together often entwined or curled around each other. They rarely showed any overt affection if they came together during a session, with only the briefest touch now and then. To the watchers it was as if they were merely good friends thrown together into a difficult situation. Reynolds was the only one who knew better. He had seen the infrared recordings of the bathroom, his conscience not feeling a twinge of disgust or remorse at seeing the two bodies coming together in the shower, one of them his own daughter. It only confirmed what he already knew – that Vincent and Catherine were completely devoted to protecting each other, and were completely passionate about the other.

Various research department heads questioned the bond between them, judging them purely on their public behavior in front of the techs and official watchers. Reynolds listened with a barely concealed smile, knowing what they didn't; that the couple were playing a deep game with the researchers and that they were very, very smart.

At the faint sound of the chimes that announced it was time to get up, Vincent snapped awake, his body on alert to a threat he couldn't see. Catherine was stirring at his side, slowly at first, but then she suddenly threw back the covers and ran to the bathroom, barely making it in time before throwing up noisily in the toilet. Vincent was seconds behind her, his fingers pulling back her long hair away from her face as she continued to retch. When she sat back, he gave her a glass of water to rinse her mouth, then a cloth to wipe her face, crouching down beside her to peer worriedly into her wan face.

"Oh, God, that was horrible." Catherine moaned. "But for what it's worth, it feels better out than in."

"You weren't feeling unwell last night?"

"No, I was fine. It can't be something I ate, you had the same at the mess hall. I need to brush my teeth." Catherine grimaced, Vincent helping her to her feet, steadying her when she swayed. Catherine brushed him off with a laugh and leant against the sink, scrubbing her teeth with a generous amount of toothpaste.

Vincent watched her cautiously as she finished her morning ritual before returning to the bedroom to find clothes to put on for the day. She bent down to pick up the soft slippers she usually wore, but when she straitened she started to crumple, Vincent catching her up and carrying her, now senseless, across to the bed. He had barely laid her on the covers when the door opened and a white coated medic rushed in, a nurse seconds behind him.

"What's wrong with her?" Vincent roared, torn between protecting Catherine and letting the medical team check her over. He could feel the Beast rise up and batter to be released, but he refused to let it, Catherine's pale, still face reminding him of the car crash and his inability to help her then, as now. The nurse pushed him back from the bed to give the doctor room to work, but Catherine was already recovering from her swoon and started up with a cry when she found someone strange bending over her.

"Vincent?" He was beside her before she finished saying his name.

"I'm here. He's just checking you out."  
"Why? What happened?" Catherine's wide eyes darted between the doctor and Vincent.

"You fainted. You must have straightened up too soon and the blood rush knocked you out."

"You're joking...I don't faint." Catherine looked up at him worriedly, then back to the doctor hovering beside her. "There's nothing wrong with me."

"A simple blood test will confirm it for you, and for us," the doctor advised, the nurse handing him a needle.

Catherine glanced up at Vincent who nodded, careful to keep his own concerns from showing on his face. "Do it, love, it'll probably turn out to be nothing, just low blood sugar...or something."

Catherine nodded to the doctor, gripping Vincent's hand and looking away as the needle went in, her blood quickly filling the vial which the nurse took and labeled.

"All done," the doctor announced, packing up his bag and indicating for the nurse to leave.

Once more alone, Vincent wrapped his arms around Catherine and held her close. Catherine held on equally as tight, mystified as to what was going on. Minutes passed, soon stretching into an hour and still no one came to collect them. Catherine dozed, still cuddled tight against Vincent, while he kept an uneasy watch, a suspicion running over and over in his head of what her illness could be.

At length the door opened and Reynolds appeared with an assistant carrying a tray of covered plates and a jug of water.

"Thoughts you'd be hungry by now as you missed breakfast." He indicated for the assistant to place the tray on the bed before waving him out.

Catherine eyed the plates hungrily and Reynolds indicated for her to eat.

"Please, go ahead. You need to keep you strength up...now."

Catherine paused in lifting a piece of fruit to her mouth. "What do you mean now?"

"What did the blood test show?" Vincent added grimly.

"That you, Catherine, are pregnant." Reynolds kept his expression impassive and just watched the emotions chase each other across his captives faces. Neither one looked happy with the news.

Catherine spoke first. "I can't be. I've had the injection and it's good for several more months."

Reynolds glanced ceiling-ward for a second before continuing. "That was rendered inactive when you were first taken."

Catherine gasped. "You had no right!"

"Be that as it may, you are now pregnant, the tests are irrefutable." Reynolds replied. "It's not like you've been celibate since you were reunited." With a twitch of his eyebrow he indicated the bathroom, Catherine flushing a deep rose while Vincent bared his teeth, his eyes flashing gold for a second.

Reynolds shrugged. "Your...er...secret, such as it is, is safe with me. You campaign of appearing barely interested in each other may fool most of the personnel on this project, but I know otherwise." This time he did let a little of his smugness show and Catherine threw herself at him, her fingers curled into claws. Only Vincent's quick reactions saved Reynolds from a raking, his arm cording with the effort of holding Catherine back.

As quickly as her anger flared, Catherine slumped back against Vincent, her head turning to hide her face in his shoulder, Vincent folding her into his arm protectively. Both looked as if the news was of the worst kind, baffling Reynolds.

"I'm surprised you seem to have taken the news this way. I would have thought you'd be overjoyed. You, Vincent, because this proves you're not infertile from the experiments, and Catherine, what did you expect when you have sex with the frequency you two have been."

Vincent growled low and menacingly at the older man. "You expect us to be happy that our baby will be born into this?" Vincent looked around the plainly furnished room. "Its parents captives of some faceless organisation, their lives hanging by a thread. I'm not even...human...which means you'll take our baby away and test it, just as you've been testing us. So no, we're not happy about the news...anything but."

Catherine lifted her head and glanced at Vincent for a long moment before turning her head to face Reynolds. "I won't have my baby here, to be taken away and used as an experiment. I won't. I'll kill myself before I let any baby be used like that."

Reynolds looked taken aback at Catherine's fierceness, flicking a glance at Vincent only to see the same determination in his gaze.

"I could simply separate you and put you into isolation until the baby is due to be born." Reynolds drawled.

Catherine glared daggers, then drew back, her back tight up against Vincent. "There is no way you can stop me. And I'll have months to plot my own death. Either way, I won't let you use either me or our baby in your experiments."

"Vincent?" Reynolds asked, seeing the way Catherine sought her lovers hand for reassurance. Once more the couple glanced at each other, a wealth of meaning in the look, before Vincent drew himself up to stand in front of Catherine, his eyes flaring gold.

"You've had your answer. Either you guarantee the safety of this child, or we will simply end this experiment right here, right now." Vincent kept his gaze fixed on Reynold, his hand still entwined with Catherine's behind his back. "And don't suppose we haven't already planned for this moment. First I will snap your neck, then Catherine's, all before those watching have time to react. After that I will tear open my arms and bleed out. By the time anyone gets in here it will all be over, and nothing but three corpses to show for all this investment."

Vincent was the one to smile this time, baring his teeth in a mirthless grin, his eyes glowing a deep amber, blue veins chasing up and around his neck as he let the Beast slip its leash.

Reynolds took a step back and swallowed.

The door behind him burst open and a crowd of black clad figures wielding tranquilizer guns spread out around Reynolds, the man holding out an arm to hold them back from the couple beside the bed. Vincent still shielded Catherine, but several soldiers had a clear view of her.

"I can see that once more I have underestimated you both. I'm sure with your training you are probably capable of doing exactly as you say...but not today." Reynolds waved the soldiers back, the men obeying but only slowly and never once turning their backs on Vincent. When the last man left and the door swung closed behind him, Vincent leashed the Beast and shook his head to clear the last of its influence.

"What do you want?" Reynold asked.

Catherine rose up from the edge of the bed and stepped forward.

"We want somewhere where we're not being watched twenty four seven. We want better quarters than these. I want somewhere that has a window to the outside, where I can see the sky and feel the sun on my skin. I want plants and I want privacy."

Reynolds arched an eyebrow but made no comment. "Vincent?"

"I want all that Catherine wants, with one condition. When the baby is due to be born you let her go. I'll stay here, but you let Catherine go back to her world with the child. Anything less and you'll have nothing."

"Vincent?" Catherine's soft cry went unheeded by either men.

"You'll stay here? Submit yourself to whatever tests we devise? You'll stay willingly?" Reynolds asked, making the terms brutally clear.

"Vincent, no..." Catherine tried to draw Vincent back to her but he ignored her.

"I'll stay if Catherine and the child are free to go. But any hint of a double cross and it's over. When it's time for her to go, I'll need to see it happen. I'll also want regular updates with images to prove you've upheld your part of the bargain. Then I'll go with you willingly. Do we have a deal?"

Reynolds chewed over the options for a moment, then shrugged and held out his hand. "Deal".


	7. Part Seven

Changes were put into effect immediately. Catherine and Vincent were moved to an above ground part of the facility, a corner apartment with windows that looked out over a bleak landscape, but after weeks of nothing but stark white walls it was the most beautiful sight imaginable.

They had more space, a bedroom with en suite and a living room with a glass protected gas fire. They still had to go to a food hall to eat, and their clothing choices were still limited, but it was luxurious in one respect – they had their privacy. Their daily routine was much the same with perpetual rounds of tests and challenges, but as Catherine progressed in her pregnancy she more often stood on the sidelines and watched Vincent being put through his paces.

Vincent joked at one point that apart from the regular sex and Catherine's company, his life had resumed its usual pattern when he'd been in hiding with J.T. The one obvious difference being the lack of freedom to simply walk outside and breathe the air without being watched over by a platoon of black clad soldiers with tranq guns. At length that changed too, when they were granted the use of a fenced off area of the grounds. It was simply a square of grass bordered by thirty foot, barbed-wire topped fencing, but it was green and out in the fresh air, such as it was. On sunny days they would bring a blanket from their bed and lay on the grass like lovers having a picnic in Central Park. When it was dull and cold they would use the blanket like a shawl and huddle under it together and just pace the forty foot square boundary limit of their freedom. Outside they were always under the watchful gaze of camera's and soldiers, but in their apartment it seemed that Reynolds had kept his part of the deal, Vincent unable to detect any cameras or find any listening or watching devices anywhere.

At eighteen weeks, while Catherine was looking out of the window and noticing the flush of new green growth on some of the scrubby bushes outside the fence, she felt a movement flutter inside her. Resting her hand on her gently rounded abdomen she waited and was rewarded with another flutter, this time more vigorous.

"Vincent!"

Her sharp call brought him running. "What is it? What's the matter?" His quick appraisal of the room, then herself told him nothing. "Catherine?"

"I felt our baby move. Here, give me your hand."

Hesitantly Vincent held it out to her. Catherine flattened it against her belly, holding it there with her own. "Can you feel it?" Biting her lip she looked up at him, her expression radiant. So rapt was he in her face he almost missed the faint movement against his palm. When it registered he glanced downwards in amazement.

"It moved."

Catherine smiled, still holding his hand against her rounded tummy. Vincent slowly knelt down in front of her, never removing his trapped hand, but bringing the other up to cradle the slight bump. His eyes darted up to hers when he felt the baby move again, a crooked smile lighting up his features. "He's active in there."

"He ?" Catherine queried with a fond smile. "Could be a she..."

"He, she, it's our baby..." Then his smile faded and he rose to his feet, removing his hands from her. Catherine instantly missed the warmth. "What is it, Vincent?"

"Was I right to let it go this far? I don't know if I can do what I threatened any more. And if I can't what does that mean if they renege on the deal?" Vincent shuddered. "I can't bear the thought of our baby being poked and prodded like..." His face twisted. "I just can't."

Catherine let out a sigh and wrapped herself around him, her arms holding him tight. "It wasn't just your decision, Vincent. We discussed this, you know we did. They've kept up their side of the bargain so far, there's no reason other than good ol' plain paranoia to suppose they'll put either of us in jeopardy, or the baby for that matter." She leaned back to see his face, his eyes still anguished. "Vincent, we have to have hope that they will let me go along with our baby. I know why you're prepared to sacrifice yourself, but I'm not prepared to sacrifice you yet. We have to hope that something will happen that we can take advantage of. We've made our plans, and we have to stick by them." She reached up to lay her palm against his face, feeling the prickle of morning stubble against her palm. Vincent leant into her hand, his eyes closing despite the frown still lingering. "I can no more lose you now than you can lose us. We're stronger together, you know that. Have faith."

She reached up and kissed him, softly, sweetly, a balm for his heartache.

Catherine was twenty four weeks gone when mother nature decided to change the game plan. It was night time, a moonless night where the stars shone like diamonds. Daytime temperatures had been steadily climbing, the bushes now flush with new greenery and the days more often sunny than not. Vincent lay asleep on his back, one arm curled around Catherine who lay on her side snug against his chest. A faint tremor shook the room and Vincent was instantly awake, his senses reaching out even as he blinked away the sleep from his brain. A more violent tremor had him moving after shaking Catherine awake. Within a minute the whole room was rocking with the force of the earthquake, Catherine and Vincent ready to take advantage of any opportunity. It came in a dramatic fashion when the wall of their apartment showed a crack which grew until the entire outer wall fell away with a thunderous crash, spilling across their tiny patch of grass to flatten the wire fence in an avalanche of concrete.

Not stopping to think, they put their plans into effect, gathering up their meagre belonging into a blanket and snatching up another smaller bundle of food and water previously hidden. Without light and with the ground still heaving and shaking, they made their way down the treacherous slope, Vincent picking Catherine up and carrying her over the worst of the rubble. In the distance they could hear alarms and shouting, a few people running about with hand held torches, the lights obscured by the pall of dust billowing up from the ruins of the building. Smoke was also adding to the chaos, covering their escape as they negotiated the ruined fence and started to run across the open ground beyond. Keeping as low as possible they ran for their lives and the life of their child, putting as much distance between them and their captors as possible.

All the physical testing now paid off for Vincent, the run barely raising his blood pressure but Catherine was already showing signs of strain, her body hampered by the pregnancy. She didn't make a sound but they hadn't gone far before a breathy groan was torn from her when she stubbed her toe and almost fell. Vincent instantly swept her up despite her protests, carrying her at a steady jog while she clung to him helplessly. When his human side started to flag he called on the Beast to take over, covering the ground in a loping stride that ate up the distance. There had been little to base their observations on but a notch in a distant hillside had been chosen as their aim if they ever had the chance to run. It was here that Vincent paused and looked back, his breathing ragged as he gazed at the ruins of the complex that had been their prison for so long. Flames and smoke shot up into the sky, the headlights of cars seen to be leaving, fanning out in different directions and bumping over the rough ground making the lights bob.

"They're looking for us already," Catherine observed.

"They won't find us." Vincent stated emphatically, turning away from the scene and heading up the slope again. An hour later and the complex was lost behind a series of low, rolling hills all covered with the same scrubby shrubs. Vincent set Catherine down and flopped on to the ground for a respite. None of the cars they'd seen setting out had been heading in their direction so they felt able to take a brief rest before continuing. Catherine absently rubbed her belly, feeling the baby move as if in protest at being woken so early. Looking up she stared at the star spangled sky, a meteor streaking momentarily across the heavens leaving a bright trail. All around them was silence, only the distant glow of fire behind the hills showing which direction the complex lay.

"We need to move," Vincent said, hefting their bundles before reaching for her.

"You can't carry us all the time," Catherine told him, but he ignored her and lifted her easily.

"I can see better than you, remember. We can't afford to stumble or get injured, so just enjoy the ride." After a quick kiss, he let the Beast out to play, his eyes glowing brightly with his night time vision making the landscape as bright as day.

By the time the sun started to lighted the sky they had travelled so far the glow of the burning complex was no longer visible. The landscape was changing, the scrub giving way to tree lined gullies and the dark green of a dense forest clothing steeper hillsides. They had crossed a few thin streams, and the occasional pond hidden in the fold of a hill, but now they could hear the rush of water somewhere nearby. With the dawn Catherine insisted on being put down, giving Vincent a much needed rest. Together they approached a cutting among the trees that turned out to be a rushing flow of water that culminated in a waterfall dropping away to a valley below.

"How are we going to cross that?" Catherine asked, looking up and down stream for any crossing place.

Vincent gauged the distance needed to jump and shook his head. "Can't jump it, or I should say I probably could, but not with you, and you certainly can't on your own."

"We need a bridge," Catherine said, looking at the trees around them, then at the ground. "There's a log that might bridge the gap if we can find a narrower part." She pointed to the candidate for a bridge and Vincent went over to investigate.

Half an hour later and their makeshift bridge was complete. Vincent had deemed the original log too rotten and instead found several thinner ones which, when lashed together formed a shaky but more reliable bridge.

There was little room for error, but they were using up precious time and need to get across the gorge. It was unlikely that the thin trunks would bear both their weight at once, so Vincent went first, making it across before waving Catherine over. She had a rope around her made out of cut and knotted sheets as a precaution but in the end it wasn't needed, Catherine making it across with only a couple of shaky moments. Once there Vincent pushed their creation into the raging torrent to be destroyed in seconds before disappearing over the waterfall.

They were now in the deep shade of the pine forest, the sun filtering through the branches that would shield them from any helicopter pursuit. By mid morning Catherine had gone as far as she could. Her flimsy shoes were shredded and her back ached. Vincent created a bower of branches and a bed of bracken for her to lay on, then joined her, sharing the food and water but giving her the larger portion. Soon after they slept, the daylight hours passing while the forest around them remained undisturbed.


	8. Part Eight

The sun was dipping below the treeline when Vincent woke her.  
"We have to get going."

Easing herself upright she stretched, her hand resting on her stomach. A smile broke over her face when she felt a strong movement inside her. "Somebody else has woken up."

Vincent moved closer and placed his hand on her now very obvious bump. "Hope you're ready for a long night," he said, leaning in for a kiss with the babies mother. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be. Let's move."

They linked hands and set off, Vincent leading the way through the trees. They had decided to follow the river at a distance and see if it led to a town or village. They had no way of knowing how far they were from any civilisation, but a complex of that size would have needed a huge amount of supplies, power and water so they supposed it wasn't completely unlikely that a sizable settlement could be near. They just didn't know if they were going in the right direction to find it or any other town. They didn't even know what country there were in, or if in fact they were heading deeper into a forested area, not out of it. Vincent could only take a bearing on the sun and hope that their luck held. The fact that the area had been hit by a massive earthquake narrowed down some of the variables, but still left the number of places on the planet they could be as nearly incalculable.

Catherine had odds on them being somewhere in Europe, while Vincent held out for them being in the Yukon or Northwest Territories, maybe even Alaska. It had been December when Vincent was first kidnapped, now they were at least six months on from then, and it was high summer wherever they were. Given the nights were still cool, it lent more weight to Vincent's argument that they were in the far north, although Catherine still argued they could be in the mountains of Northern Europe, maybe as far north as Sweden or Finland. It was a spirited debate that helped pass the time as they trekked through the night, the cataract a distance roar to their left and the ground still sloping down towards what they hoped would be either a valley floor or a river delta. They started to place imaginary bets on what they'd find when the sun rose, the bantering taking Catherine's mind off her worries.

So far there'd been no evidence of their pursuers but neither were taking any comfort from that. As soon as they hit any sort of civilisation they would be a target again. They talked out various strategies as they walked, trying to cover as many eventualities as possible, even the worst case scenarios of one of them being captured leaving the other to make their way home along.

That neither Catherine or Vincent were prepared to leave the other, whatever situation occurred, was an unspoken vow.

The spent four days and nights in the forest before sighting anything manmade. They had heard one or two planes flying overhead but hadn't been able to see them, but it indicated that they were nearing some sort of human habitation and the end of their endless speculation of where they were.

Their food brought from the complex was gone, but Vincent had managed to rig snares, a legacy of a boyhood spent hunting with his brothers, and captured several rabbits. Despite misgivings they'd built a small fire to cook them the smoke largely dissipated by the towering pines. They still slept during the day and travelled by night, leaving no trace behind of their passage. Vincent worried that Catherine was tiring, but she awoke each afternoon and wouldn't hear of them not moving on at the same pace as before. At nearly five months gone she knew it wouldn't be long before she was unable to do much of anything making her an easy target, by then she wanted to be somewhere safe from prying Muirfield agents, but whether back in the States or elsewhere she wasn't fussed. She just wanted to be somewhere they didn't have to hide all the time and they had access to medical help when the baby was due to arrive.

The brick wall loomed out of the undergrowth in front of them. Vincent had already done a reconnoitre of the area and reported to Catherine it was safe for her to come out of hiding. Together they explored the ruins of what they supposed had once probably been a factory or possibly a mining operation. It was largely overgrown with saplings growing through the concrete flooring and tall weeds breaking up the road surface around it. Vincent lead them into what looked like a front office, the place stripped of furniture and fittings, the paint peeling off the walls and windows bereft of glass. The corner of something still attached to the crumbling wall drew Catherine's attention and she wandered over to see if it could supply a clue as to the buildings origins. The piece of paper was brittle and brown with age but it held one small snippet of information.

"Vincent!"

She held it out to him. He read it then met her eyes. "That settles it. At least this way we don't have to worry about catching planes or fake passports."

"But we searched everywhere, even here and found nothing. J.T was convinced you'd been taken back to Afghanistan or somewhere like that."

Vincent glanced up at the tall pines. "These kinda blow that theory out of the water."

"Yeah. I guess so. I can't believe you were practically in our back yard."

"They probably have federal funding. Nice to know we're on the same continent as J.T and Tess, even if we're a fair bit north at the moment." Vincent grinned at her, feeling a ton of worry lift off his shoulders for a moment.

Catherine laughed. "I was so dreading finding ourselves somewhere they didn't even speak english. That and trying to find a way back to the states."

"All we have to do is keep walking and we'll be back home in a year or so," Vincent joked, grinning as Catherine laughed again and swatted him on his arm.

"Seriously, we need to keep going. It'll be dark soon but at least we have a road to follow now."

Catherine glanced down at her rag wrapped feet. "My feet will thank you for that. I've nearly worn through these already."

"Stay here, I'll check these other rooms and see if I can find anything we can use. Here..." he pulled over an empty wooden nail box and dusted it off. "Sit and I'll be right back."

Catherine waited in the rapidly darkening room, a smile still playing around her lips, the small piece of paper between her fingers. Outside the sun continued to slide towards the horizon, the shadows lengthening while midges played in the last rays of the run slanting through the trees. Vincent appeared out of the gloom, a bundle in his arms.

"Found these in some of the lockers. They're a bit dusty but mostly clean." He held up a thick Bushman's shirt, a large ragged hole in the side seam. Other treasures were a woollen hat with an edge unravelling, some mismatched gloves, seven odd socks and assorted footwear, not of which belonged to any of the others. All were musty and dirty from long storage in dusty lockers. Catherine wrinkled her nose but took the hat and socks, glad to shed the dirty rags she'd been using for footwear. The boots were full of dead spiders and grit, but once given a good shake they proved a good fit for Vincent but much too large for Catherine. Vincent only needed one pair of the socks, so Catherine put the others on, one on top of the other, then tried one of the boots, the fit a fraction better. In the end the both ended up wearing a different style or colour boot on each foot, the laces done up as tight as possible for Catherine's to fit. Vincent donned the bushshirt and stuffed their few remaining belongings into a sack he'd found on the factory floor, fashioning a sling to carry it on his back with a bit of twine. Catherine was now wearing their much worn blanket like a poncho, having found one half of a pair of scissors for cutting the hole with. Together they looked like a pair of tramps, Vincent's five day beard making him look like a mythical viking, but they didn't care. They were alive, together, and knew where they were – roughly.

Following the driveway away from the old factory led them to a long abandoned forest road in only a little better repair than the drive, but it promised much. As before they travelled by night, the moon rising late to give them some much needed light, at least for Catherine to see by. With the dawn they had reached a crossroads where a well maintained road dissected the forest road, which carried on into the woods on the other side. They had been luck with the weather but that morning a fog descended leaving them damp and the trees around them dripping.

"Let's find somewhere back from the road," Vincent suggested, leading Catherine into the woods a little way before setting down the pack and starting to gather branches.

"I suppose it was too much to hope we'd find a roadside and a hot cup of coffee." Catherine sighed, rubbing her stomach under the poncho.

"No, but I do have a good roof for our bed." Vincent announced, dragging a large sign over and propping it against a tree trunk. The sign was a notice of demolition for the building they'd just left.

"This will keep us dry if this fog turns to rain."

Within an hour the weather had done just that, but the sign proved its worth and kept them snug and dry on a bed of only slightly damp bracken and fern fronds. They ate the last of the cooked rabbit before settling down to sleep. Catherine snuggled into Vincent's arms and lay there, listening to the patter of rain on their makeshift roof.

"I think even Reynolds would have difficulty recognising us now. You look like Wolverine and I look a fright. These eyebrows haven't seen a tweezer in months." Catherine grumbled, hearing a growl of laughter rumble in Vincent's chest.

"We're being hunted by an organisation that doesn't hesitate to wipe out anyone in their way, or hold people captive for months on end, and you're worrying about a mono-brow?"

Catherine chuckled with him. "A girl has to have her standards, and mine have largely been thrown out the window, so excuse me if I grouse a little."

"I love your mono brow," Vincent teased, kissing the top of her head. "And I love your other hairy bits as well."

"Vincent!" Catherine thumped him for being so crass. "Let me alone in a bathroom with wax strips and a lady shaver and I'll emerge a new woman."

Teasing her again, Vincent rubbed his booted foot against her legs. "But it's cute that I'm not the only one with hairy legs!"

"Remind me to book you in for a Brazilian, then you won't be laughing so hard." Catherine retorted, hardly able to talk for laughing.

Vincent just grinned and rubbed his whiskers against her cheek.

Still giggling, she settled against him again, the thump of his heart a soothing sound as she dozed.


	9. Part Nine

The rain kept up into the night and they decided to stay put. They had plenty of water, and Vincent had found a small orchard of stunted fruit trees behind the foundations of an old cottage that had probably belonged to a gatekeeper for the factory. Together they picked the best out of the wrinkled and wormy fruit, making a poor meal, but it was better than nothing.

They had heard only a few cars using the road, but it gave them hope that they might be close to a settlement, the old sign giving them a clue with the name, 'Meadow Lake Timber Furniture' long since gone out of business, but a footnote, confirmed by the scrap of paper in the derelict office as being based in Saskatchewan.

The morning dawned damp but with no rain, so they broke camp and walked the short distance to the road.

"Which way?" Catherine asked as they stood looking to left and right.

"Right." Vincent stated emphatically. Catherine raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Smells right." Vincent answered, flashing her a quick grin. Catherine just shrugged and started to walk.

They had been walking for an hour before they heard the first car approach, heading towards them so they got off the road and watched it pass. Vincent scanned the occupants and noted the license plate but it all looked normal, with no evidence of armed hunters or obvious Muirfield agents.

The next vehicle to pass was going in their direction so Catherine held out her thumb, holding little hope that the driver would stop given their disreputable appearance. To her surprise the truck pulled up and the driver poked his head out. He was elderly and none too tidy himself, but she ignored that.

"Can you help us?" she asked, smiling at him. The old man blinked then stared at her, obviously nonplussed at their appearance. Apparently he decided they looked relatively harmless.

"Can I take you folks somewhere, you look kinda lost."

"Please." Catherine breathed. "Can you take us to...er...Meadow Lake?" She deliberately placed her hand on her belly to flatten the blanket and show her pregnancy.

Giving Vincent a leery look the old man nodded. "Stow your kit in the back and hop in. I'm on my way to Meadow Lake as luck would have it."

"Thank you, so much." Catherine flashed a smile at Vincent before walking around the truck and opening the passenger side door. Vincent followed more slowly, throwing their sack into the back before climbing in the truck, squeezing in beside Catherine.

"Thank you, sir, we weren't sure anyone would give us a ride."

The truck lurched into motion again and their driver glanced again at Catherine's stomach. "You got yourselves lost up here? It's easy to do in these woods. We have a regular list of tourists that don't pack for the conditions or think they can hike these trails and come out again."

"Um...yeah, we did get a little lost. Our gear was washed away in a flash flood a week ago." Catherine made up, hoping their cover sounded plausible.

Their driver didn't seem to think it odd to find two New Yorkers tramping the back woods of Saskatchewan.

"Oh, we get all sorts up here. survivalists, preppers, end-of-the-worlders...all the crackpots find their way up here eventually." He laughed loudly. "Not that I'm saying you two are crackpots, but we seem to attract them up here in the wilds. They usually only stay from spring through autumn and leave before the snows, but their up there, building their camps and digging in."

"Is Meadow Lake a big town?" Vincent asked, having already checked out the contents of the trucks cab and found nothing to connect their driver with Muirfield.

"Big enough. It was made a city in two thousand and nine. There's even an airport if you need a quick trip out of here. We get some of the army boys using the local bars on their leave days, and the summers are pretty busy with tourists."

"Army boys?" Vincent queried, feeling Catherine tense up beside him.

"Yeah, they have a base up north a ways, some sort of weapons range, all out of bounds of course, but it brings in trade and keeps us on the map."

Catherine and Vincent exchanged a long look.

Catherine tried another topic to get away from anything military. "What do you do?"

"I'm retired now, but I used to work in one of the local pulp industries."

"Did you make furniture?" Vincent asked, thinking of the factory back in the woods.

"My family used to own a factory here abouts, but it's long gone now. Used to make the best pioneer furniture, had exports overseas as well as to the states."

"My names Heather, and this is Ryan," she thought it time they were on a first name basis, even if they weren't their true names.

"Joe Handley, pleasure to meet you both. How far along are you?"

Catherine looked down at her rounded stomach and smiled. "Twenty five weeks now."

"That's why we were taking a last camping trip." Vincent added. "Before the baby was born. Never expected to be caught out like that. We lost everything, including our wallets and I.D."

Catherine picked up the story. "We were lucky to snag some of the bedding, and we found these boots and that shirt at an old factory just off the road."

"You have had a rough time of it. Look, I can take you to the police station, they may be able to help you."

"That's kind of you. Is there a internet cafe that you know of?" Catherine asked.

"Hmmm...I don't know of one, but I know someone who will. You both look like you could do with a good meal, and maybe a wash up?" He cocked an eyebrow at them both, but tempered it with a small smile. "Not that I'm saying you need a bath, but I imagine a shower wouldn't go amiss."

Catherine laughed. "You're very diplomatic, but yes a shower would be heaven."

"We can't pay you..." Vincent started to say but Joe cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"You need help, and I know someone who'll jump at the chance to help. Leave it to me."

Vincent sought Catherine's hand under the blanket poncho and squeezed gently. It seemed that lady luck was smiling down on them for a change.

The friend was a lovely lady who ran a B&B just outside the city limits, her neat, picturesque home what any honeymooning couple would love to stay in. When Joe pulled up there Catherine couldn't believe her eyes. He told them to wait while he went inside and talked to his friend. Vincent got out of the truck and pulled their tattered bag out of the back while Catherine stood with a hand against her back looking up at the roses climbing over the verandah.

"Have you ever seen a place like this?" Catherine breathed.

"Is it for real?" Vincent whispered against her ear.

"I certainly hope so."

Joe appeared again this time with a woman following behind him. She was middle aged, slender, with a shock of white hair cut in a short bob.

"Heather, Ryan this is Mattie, she'll take good care of you. See?" He addressed the woman, "I told you they needed your help."

"You weren't wrong there, Joe. Hi, Matilda Hedingly, Mattie for short. Joe here is an old friend of my husband, and he's always bringing any waifs and strays he finds to me, animal and human." As if just realising what she said Mattie. "Not that you're waifs or strays...oh dear, that didn't really come out right, did it?"

Catherine laughed. "I think you are entirely right. If there was a definition for waifs and strays it would fit me and Ryan perfectly. We lost all our belongings, you see..."

"Yes, yes Joe told me. And you pregnant as well. Now don't hang about out here come inside and we'll sort you out." She shooed them inside then turned to Joe for a last word.

"You'll go and check with the station about any missing persons, won't you?"

"I don't think their runaways, Mattie, they're not exactly kids, but I'll check all the same." Joe walked to his truck and climbed in. "I'll call you later if I learn anything."

Mattie waved as the truck pulled out then turned to go into the house. Her unexpected house guests where standing in the hallway looking uncomfortable.

"We didn't want to mess up your furniture," Vincent offered as an explanation.

"Hah," Mattie laughed. "I wish you'd explain that concept to my grandkids. I have to scotch guard everything twice over if they're due to visit. They have the greatest capacity for finding muck and dirt and bringing it in to the house." She stood for a moment assessing the pair of them.

"I reckon you'd fit some of my daughters clothes, and you, young man would easily fit my husbands old work clothes. I kept them to use in the garden, but they'd be of better use replacing what you have on. You're hardly decent."

Vincent looked down at himself and had to agree. Catherine tried to suppress a giggle but failed, Vincent grinning sheepishly at Mattie. "We lost everything, but once I'm cleaned up if you can tell me where to find an internet café I can contact our friends and get funds sent here to pay for everything."

"Worry about that later. Your young lady is ready for a hot shower, warm meal and a bed. In that order I shouldn't wonder."

"Oh, yes please," Catherine replied, just the thought of a hot shower making her feel weak at the knees. Before she could make a move for the stairs Vincent had swept her up in his arms.

"If you'll show me the way?"

Totally disarmed by his charm, Mattie led the way up the stair to the first landing and pointed out the bathroom.

"I'll sort out those clothes right away. There are brand new toothbrushes under the sink and plenty of towels. I'll leave the clothes outside the door, okay?"

"I can't thank you enough..." Catherine started to say, but Vincent swept her into the bathroom and Mattie left to get the clothes, thinking it had been a long time since she'd seen a couple so in love.

"You'll get all pruney if you stay in there any longer."

Catherine stuck out her tongue at him, reluctantly turning off the shower and stepping out, only to be enveloped in a large, fluffy blue towel. He had been busy while she lingered in the shower, the sink showing a smattering of black hair from the trim he'd given his beard. It helped to hide his scar, as well as his features in general, so for now it stayed. He had a towel wrapped around his hips leaving a generous display of chest and arms for Catherine to admire.

She sat on the toilet seat and drank in the view, the hot shower leaving her lethargic and totally relaxed. Vincent held up a disposable razor he'd found in one of the vanity drawers, but Catherine shook her head.

"You've put up with my hairy legs for days now, so I'm not bothered if you're not." Leaning her head back she closed her eyes, but Vincent wouldn't let her sleep now. A cold draught followed him opening the bathroom door to collect the clothes, a waft of something delicious making its way into the room and making her stomach growl.

"Here, these are for you." Vincent handed her a pile of neatly pressed, sweet smelling clothes and she buried her nose in them for a moment. Vincent had already dropped his towel and was pulling on the selection Mattie had picked out for him, Catherine enjoying the play of muscles across his back and down his legs.

"If you don't move I'll have to dress you myself," Vincent threatened jokingly. Catherine decided that it would be quite nice to have someone dress her and smiled at him.

"I'd like that."

He hesitated only a second before pulling her up on to her feet and using the towel to dry her, pulling the edges apart to reveal her breasts and rounded belly, his gaze quickly followed by his mouth pressing kisses to her rosy flesh while Catherine clutched his head against her, her fingers delving into his silky hair. Where is would have led was anyone's guess but a knock at the door interrupted their love play.

"Food is on the table when you're ready?" Matties voice called through the door.

"Be right there!" Vincent answered, dropping the towel completely and holding up a pair of panties for Catherine to step into. "Come on, I'm starving."

Catherine vowed to revisit the whole dressing scene again some time, but she was hungry too and with Vincent's help, albeit interspersed with kisses on any bit of exposed skin he could find, she was soon dressed and ready to go down.

"Well, this is certainly a vast improvement," Mattie announced when they entered the kitchen.

"I'm afraid the bathroom is a bit of a mess..." Vincent apologised, but Mattie flapped a hand at him.

"I'd be surprised if it wasn't. Sit here and help yourself. I've already eaten so I'll just go prepare your room and give you a bit of peace."

Vincent and Catherine sat at the table and stared at the array of dishes set before them. Lifting the lid off one of the dishes revealed a delicious smelling stew. Catherine held out her plate and Vincent served. Catherine quickly added some potatoes and carrots, then started to eat.

"Oh, my God, this is wonderful," she crooned, "this woman is a marvel."

Vincent was head down and powering through a plate of the stew, his gaze lifting momentarily to see the blissful expression on Catherine's face.

"If Mattie has a lap top and internet connection then she'd truly be an angel in disguise."

They continued to enjoy the meal, but hardly made a dent in the quantity available. After days of small rations, they weren't up to a banquet. At length Mattie returned and surveyed her guest with a satisfied expression.

"I can see that went to a good home. Now don't linger here, your room is all ready for you. First door at the top of the stairs, opposite the bathroom. I put you there in case you need to get up in the night. I remember my first and I was up nearly every hour with the little beast jumping up and down on my bladder."

Mattie shooed them out of the kitchen and watched them take the stairs, Vincent with his arm around Catherine who was already half asleep on her feet. Once they had gone into the bedroom she returned to the kitchen and started to tidy up. She expected a call from Joe anytime soon, and had purposely put them in a room without a phone so the call wouldn't wake them. She hoped for their sake that they weren't wanted by the police, because they certainly were a very likeable couple very much in love.

Catherine hardly stirred when Vincent undressed her and put on the night-clothes left out for their use. Her head was already deep in the featherdown pillows, her body so relaxed she felt like she was floating. Vincent finally joined her and they moved so they fitted together like puzzle pieces.

"I wish this dream didn't have to end," Catherine breathed, her lips brushing against his neck.

"I do too, but we can't stay here. As soon as I make contact with J.T and get some money wired to us, we have to get as far away as possible."

"I know. I just wish..." she mumbled, finally giving into the lure of sleep and sinking into oblivion. Vincent stayed awake a little longer, searching with his senses for anything that struck a wrong note or seemed off to him. Nothing did, and not even the distance bleat of a phone ringing could rouse him from his slumber once sleep claimed him.

When Mattie looked in on the couple a little later she smiled and closed the door again. Her guests would sleep well tonight.

Joe had rung, as he'd promised but had nothing to report. If the couple were wanted by the law, the news hadn't reached Saskatchewan as yet. Satisfied that Heather and Ryan appeared to be exactly what they were – a young couple having a run of bad luck, Mattie settled in to watch her favourite show – NCIS.


	10. Part Ten

J.T hurried along the corridor, fumbling with his bag for the keys to Catherine Chandlers apartment, dropping his books in his hurry to get inside. He had barely put his stuff on the counter when Tess burst in, wild eyed .

"I got your text. You've heard from Vincent?"

"Out of the blue. He's sent me an email, here sit down I'll bring it up. He sent it to an email address we kept just for this purpose. It was part of our plan B."

"You had a plan B?" Tess queried, giving him a look.

"Yes. Anyway, I check it every day but this is the first time there's been anything there."

He logged into the account where a solitary email sat waiting. He opened it and let Tess read the message.

"Talk about cryptic. What do you think it means?"

"Well firstly, that they're out of Muirfield's hands for starters. See, he says 'I'm all good' which means they are somewhere safe at the moment at least."

"Great. But where?" Tess peered at the screen.

"From what I can tell, it's north of the Border, hard to tell where exactly given that he's keeping quiet about a location, but I traced the server and it's in Canada."  
Tess looked sideways at him. "But I thought we agreed they weren't anywhere on this continent, including Canada?"

"Everything I could find at the time suggested that was the case. I thought it more likely they'd been taken overseas or to an island. But the trail doesn't lie. They're in Canada."

"Shit. What does this mean - "hope you can help" - help with what? If we don't know where they are?"

"That was code for needing funds urgently. If they have escaped Muirfield, they won't have a dollar between them or any means of accessing their accounts, not that Vincent had an account, he always used mine, but Catherine won't be able to touch hers. We set up a paypal account way back when for just this sort of emergency so I'll put some money in it and then Vincent can use it to set up a fake bank account to draw on."

Tess looked at him. "You really did figure this all out, didn't you?"

"We had to. Vincent can't have a credit card, that could be traced. He'll have to create a new identity for himself and Catherine. Fortunately he's given me a clue for that as well. See he signed the email Heather and Ryan."

"Yeah, I noticed. Heather because of Cat's sister, but Ryan?"

"Vincents second name. Vincent Ryan Keller."

"Huh."

"Look, I'll do the finagling of the fake I.D.'s if you'll help with the financing. They're going to need some serious cash if they want to make it back here alive."

"Hey, what else do I have to spend my pay packet on?" Tess shrugged and stood up, pulling out her wallet and handing over her credit cards to J.T. "Use what you need. I know Cat is good for it."

"Thanks."

"How about you work on that and I'll fix us something to eat."

"You cook?" J.T looked up at her, clearly surprised. Tess rolled her eyes.

"Of course I don't cook. That's what take out is for! Chinese or Italian?"

"Thai." J.T answered, smiling when Tess threw up her hands and stomped out.

Vincent read the reply from J.T and thanked his lucky stars to have such a good friend. Catherine sat at his side, her face screwed up as she tried to decipher the meaning of the message.

"I hope you know what he's talking about, I'm lost."

"J.T and I developed this for just such a situation. Our plan B, if you remember."

"Ah yes, the infamous plan B."

"And in our plan B we set up a paypal account for money to use in just this sort of emergency."

"But how do we access it without any I.D.?"

"J.T has that in hand. He's making it now and will courier it here. Once we have that we can open a bank account, download the money and it's done."

"How does he know where to send it?"

"Secret code. Plan B, remember?"

"How long is all this going to take?" Catherine asked. "I love it here but I'm not sure how long Mattie can keep us."

"I'll explain to Mattie what's happening, sort of, and tell her we'll settle our account as soon as the money is transferred, okay?"

"Sure. It just galls me that my accounts are sitting there stuffed full of money and I have no way of accessing them."

"Stuffed full? Did you win the lottery of something?"

"Not exactly. I was on a good pay grade, and had nothing really to spend it on except rent and clothes."

"No secret vices?" Vincent teased, stealing a kiss.

"Only bad boys who hang about my fire escape and steal my heart," Catherine replied, kissing him back.

"Ah. I'll have to remember to shut the window and keep them out."

"Never. I like hanging about on my fire escape."

Neither of them noticed Mattie in the doorway and she had to cough to announce herself. Seeing an email open on her laptop she asked the obvious.

"Have you heard from your friend already? That was quick?"

"Yes. He's organising funds for me to draw on, so we'll be able to pay you for putting us up."

"It's been no bother. I'm glad you'll be able to get things sorted. Isn't the internet a wonderful thing?"

Catherine shared a glance with Vincent then nodded. "It certainly is. Once we sort out copies of our I.D.'s we'll be able to hire and car and start our journey home."

"I'll certainly be a vacation you won't forget in a hurry." Mattie laughed, Catherine and Vincent joining her, although it was hard to imagine anything further from a vacation than what they'd been through.

The small packet arrived via courier two days later, and Vincent opened it in their room, spilling the contents on the bed. There was a drivers license each, one for Heather Kendall and another for Ryan Kendall.  
"We're married?" Catherine asked, looking surprised.

"With you so far along we could hardly pass for brother and sister," Vincent teased. Catherine swatted him and picked up the other documents, letting out a low whistle.

"J.T is a wizard. There are fake birth certificates, fake social security numbers, credit cards, passports, he's even set up an account for us. The man is amazing."

"Remember to tell him that when you see him next. Now we don't have to go to a bank and run the risk of appearing on a security camera. Good thinking, J.T!"

"Look, there's a note. It's from Tess!" Catherine scanned the few words eagerly. "She says my Dad is out of hospital and his leg is healing well. Brooke and Heather are looking after him, but his memory hasn't returned. He knows nothing about the accident or why he was meeting me." Catherine lowered her hands until they rested in her lap. "We'll never know what he was going to tell me that day."

"I think we can guess what he was meeting you about. He had a picture of Reynolds on his iPad, and your blood isn't a match for Thomas Chandler."  
Catherine heaved a sigh. "I know. But I would have liked to have heard it from him myself. I'm sure there's so much I don't know about my mother and her life before my birth."

"Hey, I've forgotten a ton of stuff, but it does come back. I remembered your mother..."

"Only when J.T pumped you full of drugs and you wigged out."

Vincent looked askance, but he was only putting it on. "Wigged out...huh. Suppose I have a flash back again and wig out, as you put it."

"Then I'll have to do what I did then..."

"Come in to my cage and stroke my face?"

"Remind you of how much I love you and that you love me."

"You can remind me of that any time," Vincent whispered, bearing her down on to the covers and kissing her lingeringly. "And I'll remind you that I love you..." he kissed her. "Again and again and again, until you tell me to stop."

"Then get used to saying it, because I will never tell you to stop."

"Hmmm I was hoping you'd say that." Cradling her carefully, so as not to squash her, Vincent set out to prove just how much he loved her, the pair of them laying among the documents of their new fake life, with a new life growing between them.

With their new identities Vincent booked a car, Meadow Lake no longer having a rail connection to anywhere and the airport only offering flights heading north, not south. The idea of spending four hours in a bus didn't appeal either, so a car was it. Joe offered to take them into the city, and after they settled the bill with Mattie, they bid her goodbye and climbed once more into Joe's truck for the trip to Meadow Lake itself.

Both Vincent and Catherine were on edge, this foray into a large urban area fraught with the possibility of being spotted by Muirfeild agents. It had been over a week since they had escaped from the Chimera Project, and it was unlikely that Reynolds and his agents had just given up. It was very likely that they were spread out and watching every like avenue of departure, although they wouldn't know what resources the fleeing pair would have to call on. All they would know was that Catherine and Vincent would be in desperate straits with no money, no identification and no body to help them.

Instead, their quarry had all they needed. Clothes, money and transport, and identification that would get them out of Canada eventually. Catherine would have preferred to fly out, but it was likely that Muirfield would have staked out any and all airports, as well as bus and train stations. Without funds, they wouldn't expect either of them to be able to hire a car.

The rental company had all the paperwork ready for Vincent to sign, handing over the keys without a twitch of concern. With a full tank of gas, supplies, spare clothes and fair weather, they headed out of Meadow Lake on a roughly four hour drive south to Saskatoon.

Vincent kept a close eye on the road behind them but saw not sign of a tail, the traffic sparse as he tooled their rental Chrysler along the highway. They would leave the car at Saskatoon and catch a south bound train to Winnipeg. From there they planned to hire another car and drive across the border into Minnesota to reach Minneapolis. Once there they hoped to meet up with J.T who was driving up from New York with Tess. If all went according to plan, they would meet up in three days time. After that, if they remained off Muirfields radar, they would form a new plan.

Catherine had curled up in the front seat and sat sideways to him, watching him with a perpetual smile playing about her lips. Vincent glanced over at her and smiled.  
"You look happy."

"I am happy. Somehow we have managed to evade the bad guys, spend a few days in the most wonderful bed and breakfast imaginable, and now we're on our way home. I can't see anything there to not be happy about."

"What about the company?"

"Oh, the company is the best part. Not only do I get to stay in a wonderful bed and breakfast, but I have the handsomest, strongest and most sexy man to share it with." The smile grew into the toothy grin of a woman well pleased with what she had.

"Is it true that women in the late stages of pregnancy have a very high sex drive?"

"I can't say," Catherine answered, glancing airily at the view ahead. "I can say that this pregnant person is looking forward to spending another night in a comfortable bed with you. Keep me clean, fed and warm, and I'm a happy woman."

"I'll have to remember that," Vincent laughed, loving the playful side of her nature. "Clean, fed and warm...that's all?"

"That's all...oh, and that thing you do...you know...the one I love?"

"Huh...you like that?"

"I do. Keep doing that, and you won't be able to get rid of me...ever."

"That easy, is it? Then I'll just have to work on being the best at...that."

"Why?" Catherine teased, knowing the answer but wanting to hear him say it.

"Because I will never want to be rid of you." Vincent replied, lifting her hand and kissing each finger, never once taking his eyes off the road.

The four hour drive to Saskatoon flew by and soon they were pulling up outside the train station. It was past midday and they'd only stopped when Catherine had needed a restroom break. Each time they stopped Vincent watched the traffic intently, watching for any hint that a car might be following at a distance or trying to hide from them. Each time there was nothing to see, the cars and people behaving quite normally with no hint of anyone watching or looking suspicious. For all intents and purposes they were an ordinary couple in an ordinary car, doing what all the other south bound travellers were doing. One thing that Vincent did do, when they halted briefly at a rest stop to stretch their legs, was to buy them both a ring to wear. Catherine had lost the one she habitually wore on the first finger of her right hand, a gold heart which he knew had been her mothers. At the rest stop was a craft shop with the usual collection of tourist memorabilia, but at the back was a glass case with a small selection of rings. Among them was a matching pair of gold rings, the smaller with a small diamond set in a gold heart. The price was reasonable so he bought them, the storekeeper telling him they had belonged to a deceased estate, the original wearers of the rings living to a great age and married for sixty years. Vincent didn't believe him, but it sounded sweet

so he didn't argue. The mans ring was scratched and battered, but fit reasonably well. Catherine was surprised when Vincent presented her with the other ring, but didn't stop him from putting it on the third finger of her left hand.

"Now we even look like a married couple," Catherine joked, but her laugh sounded false.

"If it makes you uncomfortable you can take it off once we're over the border."

"No. I like it. Thank you for thinking of it." To make up for her lapse, she leaned over and kissed his cheek, the whiskers tickling her nose. "How long are you going to keep that beard?"

They were pulling out into traffic so Vincent didn't answer right away. Eventually he glanced over at her. "You don't like it?" He looked at himself in the rear view mirror, stroking a hand over the dark growth now covering the lower part of his face.

"I don't not like it..." She bit her lower lip. "I suppose it just takes some getting used to."

"J.T will have a fit and laugh his head off when he see's it."

"Maybe he's grown one too?" Catherine suggested, smiling at the mental image of J.T with a goatee and moustache.

"Nah...he could never grow a decent beard. We had a race once, to see who could grow a beard in the fastest time. I ended up looking like grizzly Adams, and he had barely a sprinkling of down after a fortnight of no shaving!"  
Catherine laughed, as he'd intended. "No. Poor J.T."

Vincent smiled at the memory. "At one time all the Keller men had some sort of hair on their face. My mother..." Vincent trailed off, the smile dying away as he remembered his family.

Catherine reached over and entangled her fingers with his. "Tell me. What did you mother say?"

Vincent turned to look at her, his expression wry. "She threatened to attack us all with scissors if we didn't shave off the offending facial hair."

"And did she?"

"No. We shaved it all off one morning, then went in to show her and received a kiss each for our smooth cheeks and chins."

Catherine didn't comment, leaving Vincent to his memories as the miles dropped behind them and the sun travelled ever westward as each hour passed.

That night, at a modest motel not far from the train station, Vincent made love to her with an intensity that left her writhing in ecstasy, their need so in tune that the slightest touch was enough to bring them to the brink, only for Vincent to slow it down and build the tension anew. At the end Catherine was sobbing his name as they tipped over the precipice together into heaven, crashing back to earth, Catherine held safe in his arms, hearts beating in time with each other until sleep claimed them.


	11. Part Eleven

The train station was packed with commuters and travellers milling to and fro in organised chaos. Their tickets had been bought online, so they just had to be collected before waiting on the platform to board their train. Vincent tried to watch everyone at once, a hopeless task given the crowd, so a length he gave up and concentrated on keeping people back from jostling Catherine. It was the first real test of his control over the Beast in such a public place. Since escaping from Muirfields clutches there had been little reason for the Beast to be pricked awake, but now they were in a crowded space, about to board an enclosed train, with little room to cover up or escape if circumstances caused a situation. They had discussed it and decided that the risk was worth the anonymity and speed of travelling by rail, but Vincent still held onto some misgivings.

At length the train arrived and the crowd around them thinned as passengers dispersed to their different cars, avoiding those getting off, to board the Canadian going southwest, Winnipeg just one of its many stops.

They boarded and were directed to their seats, Vincent glad to be out of the melee, his heart rate and blood pressure elevated, the Beast tickling at the edge of his senses.

"Are you okay?"

He turned to look at the woman beside him and smiled. "I'll be fine. Just not used to big crowds."

Catherine reached across and took his hand, her expression concerned. It was the one aspect of choosing the train that had raised issues for them. Vincent was used to a semi-solitary life, avoiding crowded places, roaming the streets at night, taking care not to place himself in situations that didn't allow him an escape if the Beast made an appearance for whatever reason. Here on the train they were in a compartment with lots of other people, the train a closed box that only stopped at destinations. Vincent's control of his darker side was a hundred fold better, but it had never been tested before. It was a risk they agreed to take, but Catherine still worried it was too much, too soon for Vincent.

"We can always move if something or someone upsets you." Catherine offered, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand.

"Don't worry, it's unlikely anything is going to happen. We'll be there by tonight, and then it's back into a car." Vincent assured her, her very presence and touch calming him as it always had.

The hours passed slowly, the landscape beyond the windows ever changing, but time for Vincent dragged. He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. They'd been so careful, paying cash for everything, leaving no paper trail, using the false names and identities, but still something nagged at him. Catherine sat curled up at his side, covered by a soft shawl, not that it was cold, far from it, but he had brought if for her and she loved it for that reason alone. While she slept, he watched the people moving up and down the aisle, going back and forth to the bathroom or the dining car, his ears picking up snatches of their conversations, hearing nothing but normal everyday stuff. He carefully sniffed the air for any hint of something unusual or out of place, the only returns from the air conditioned atmosphere being perfume, aftershave and people.

There was nothing at all there to alarm him but he still couldn't relax and settle. Certainly no one was paying them any particular attention. Some were sleeping, others talking or playing games, some hooked up to their iPod or playing games on handhelds, or working on their laptops. All normal and routine behavior. Putting it down to a decade of always looking over his shoulder, Vincent put his head back and closed his eyes. His hair had grown long during his captivity and he hadn't asked Catherine to trim it, and she didn't seem to mind it, wild as it was, which was why the agent assigned by Muirfield to check the train managed not to recognise either of them as he passed through their car. Catherine, because her face was partially hidden under the shawl as she slept, and Vincent, because his head was turned away and his hair and beard did their job of disguise to perfection.

The agent might have not recognised his quarry, but Vincent recognised the look and smell of the agent. Keeping his eyes closed, he waited for the man to pass before gently shaking Catherine awake.

"We have company," he whispered. "Don't move until I tell you to." He waited for a tiny nod of understanding before resuming his previous position, closing his eyes but reaching out with is other senses, knowing exactly when the agent passed their seats without pausing and carried on. Beside him Catherine waited tense and wide awake, only moving when Vincent whispered it was okay to do so.

"Are you sure?" Catherine asked, her gaze wide and fearful. Vincent nodded.

"Next station we get off, regardless of where it is. We can find another way to get to or bypass it all together. The train is slowing, so be ready to grab your bag and get off. Okay?"

Catherine didn't answer, merely nodded and started to fold the shawl. Vincent stopped her.

"Wrap that around you head like a scarf, it'll help. I'll use the beanie."

Catherine nodded again and they both went to work. Vincent put on his jacket to hide his long sleeved top, between them altering the look of the clothes they'd been wearing and disguising their hair to avoid reminding the agent of anyone they'd already seen on the train. The train stopped and they rose, moving steadily towards the exit to disembark. The train would only be stopping to let down and pick up passengers, barely ten minutes before it was off again. Vincent hoped that would be long enough for them to disappear, and short enough that the agent would be far enough away not to notice they were gone when he returned to check the car they'd been in.

Vincent put his arm around Catherine, sensing her elevated heart rate as they walked normally into the tiny station at Melville among a small group of passengers getting off there. He strongly resisted the urge to look back, to check if they had succeeded in escaping detection, instead following the others who eventually scattered along the street or to the car park off to the side of the station itself.

At length the train pulled away and left Melville, only then did Vincent stop walking and look back the way they'd come, Catherine doing the same. Apart from a few locals going about their afternoon business, there was nothing to see.

"Were we followed?" Catherine asked, looking up at him.

"I don't think so, but we can't afford to hang about here too long. We need to find transport and quickly. If that agent decides to follow up on us, we need to be long gone. I'll have to wait until we're someplace else to send J.T and update of our plans. Sending anything from here would be too obvious."

"Have we been careless?" Catherine asked as they made their way further into the small town, Vincent looking for a hire car place.

"I don't think so. They might have just sent their agents out as a precaution, maybe they always have agents travelling on the train to check for any number of reasons, who knows." Vincent spied a sign and made to cross the road. "There's a car hire place, lets get that sorted first."

Within an hour they were back on the road again and heading away from Melville, north to Yorkton where they would find an internet cafe, update J.T

Director Reynolds surveyed the ruined section and smiled grimly. Initial reports had failed to turn up a single clue as to the whereabouts of their missing chimera and his lover. In the grand scheme of things, losing Vincent and his offspring was a crimp in his plans, but with all the data and specimens they'd accumulated in the time Vincent was with them they had more than enough to be going on with. Early tests were revealing potential offshoots of research previously unexplored, and human trials were only months away, not years. Still, it galled him that what they thought was a geologically sound area had decided to throw a curve ball and chose just the wrong time to indulge in a fifty year event. The damage could be repaired, the lives lost; replaced. But the thought that he'd lost yet another specimen, hell that couldn't go unmarked. It had taken him the best part of twenty years to track down Gabriel Lowen, chimera five – one of their most promising specimens and their most spectacular failure. Being dependant on drugs to remain undetectable undermined the very purpose of the project. They wanted soldiers that could control themselves, not have to pop a pill every day. Vincent showed the potential for a super soldier, even his disappearing act proved how far he outstripped all other efforts.

Patience had never been his strongest virtue, but Reynolds suspected that patience was the only way to recapture Vincent, only this time it wouldn't take a decade to return him to Muirfield's fold.

They only stayed long enough in Yorkton to send a message to J.T, then headed out, turning south once more and heading for the U.S Canadian border. They had picked up maps and had chosen a route to take them through a rural backwater with a low key border crossing near Turtle Mountain. It was the most direct route south avoiding major centers of population and traffic. It wasn't at all where they'd told the car rental they were going. Vincent intended to ditch the car as soon as they crossed the border, and find another form of transport to get them to Minneapolis for their rendezvous with their friends.

Vincent worried about Catherine, but she insisted she was doing fine and the baby was as active as ever. While he drove, she slept on the back seat, making sure that Vincent woke her to take her share of the driving. It was dark when he pulled over into the forecourt of the Moosomin Country Squire Inn, an unlikely name for an unpreposessing place. He left Catherine in the car and checked them in, the room turning out to be as plain as the building, but clean and the linen fresh. Too tired to tramp about the town, they ate at the in house restaurant, then returned to their room to plan the next day.

Catherine sat on the bed and spread the maps around her. She had already used the shower and was waiting for Vincent to emerge, which he did towelling his hair as he sauntered into the room and sat down on the other side from her.

"Have you found a route for us?" he asked, tossing the towel to land across the back of a chair.

"We can keep following route eight," Catherine pointed with her finger, following the line, "right to the border and beyond. It's a minor road and the crossing will be small, which will suit us just fine. I only hope the paperwork J.T created is up to the scrutiny."

"I don't know how he did it, but we have passports, drivers license's and birth certificates, as well as a marriage certificate. If he didn't already have a job at the University, he'd make a fortune as a forger." Vincent joked, laying on the bed on top of the maps.  
"Vincent! I was using those. I guess we'll find out just how good he is when we face the border crossing. They've tightened up on security since nine eleven. Shame we can't just crash the barriers and shoot on through."

Vincent laughed. "Very Dukes of Hazard, but we're trying to keep off the radar, not light it up like a christmas tree!"

"Hah...what is the penalty for trying to sneak across with forged documents?" Catherine asked, looking mock serious.

"Probably life...or at worst, we'll have to stay in Canada."

"Or find somewhere to cross without the car."

Vincent folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. "There probably are places where it's possible to cross. I mean, they can't patrol the whole border it's hundreds of miles long."

"That would involve hiking, and I've only just recovered from our last overland adventure." Sweeping the rest of the paperwork off the bed, Catherine lay back and folded her hands over her stomach.

"If we do make it out of Canada, and we do meet up with J.T and Tess, what are we going to do then? It's not like I can go back to my old job, even if I wanted to. We can't live off J.T and Tess forever, but without an income how are we going to live?"

Vincent frowned. The same thoughts had been turning over in his head. "We do like you wanted before I was taken. We find a little town, out of the way, and we settle there. New names, new life, we raise our kid, we'll find work, we'll keep our heads down."

"You make it sound easy, but it won't be that simple, surely?"

Vincent rolled on to his side and leaned over her, his eyes meeting hers. "We'll find a way to make it happen, I promise you that." He rested his hand on the bump and stroked it through her t-shirt. "We have to make it work, some way or other. It's not just us now."

Catherine watched his hand move over her body, the enormity of what they faced making her feel tearful, scared and hopeful all at once. Vincent glanced up and saw her distress.

"Hey, hey don't cry...please, I know it seems impossible, but we've done the impossible already. We can do this...together, we can do anything."

"Ignore me, I'm not really upset, I just can't seem to stop crying." She wiped her face, but the tears continued to flow. " I was so stupid with all my talk of normal, there is no such thing. What was normal about my mother being who she was, about me not being my father's daughter; growing up believing a lie, of you being experimented on. Nothing I know is normal. God, even Tess and J.T have had to forget anything normal; chasing up the country to meet us and then what?"

Unable to answer what were largely rhetorical questions, Vincent offered the only comfort he knew; himself. After offering her a bundle of tissues from the box on the night stand, he pulled her into his arms and rocked her, his cheek resting on the top of her head.

He had a feeling that this emotional outpouring was long overdue. The answers to the questions would have to wait.


	12. Part Twelve

Shifting through the mountain of paperwork, Reynold paused a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. Once the chaos caused by the rogue earthquake had been dealt with, and the fugitives lost, he'd given orders to his agents in New York to resume surveillance of Vincent and Catherine's friends and family. It had been called off months ago while they'd been held by Muirfield, and now a report had just come back that Detective Tess Vargas and J.T. Forbes had flown the coup and disappeared, presumably to meet up with the missing pair. That raised a slew of questions and answered a few suspicions he'd had, that Vincent had already put a plan into place for this eventuality, that they had seriously underestimated Vincent's friend and his loyalty to Vincent.

That they had communicated was a given, that they had a plan in place was now obvious, what that plan was seemed beyond his current resources ability to find out.

He was tired, his eyes aching from perusing reports, trying to sift through the masses of data for those elusive clues that would point to where Vincent and his lover were hiding. The wrinkle was that Vincent was no ordinary man. Not only was a trained soldier, he was also an enhanced human partnered with an woman who was also not lacking in brains or ability. He had to admire them because together they would make a formidable team, and now they truly had something to fight for and protect – not only themselves but their child as well.

Looking over his desk he contemplated the piles, picking up the ones of potential sightings. Either Vincent was in a hundred places at once, or he needed new agents, if these reports were anything to go by. According to the paperwork the pair seemed to be north, south east and west, but his money and his instincts held with them heading south to the border. Discarding all other sightings he concentrated on the south bound ones alone. There weren't many, less than all the other areas, but he felt that it was there they would head. How difficult would it be to spot a six foot tall man, well built with black hair, yellow glowing eyes and well developed teeth! He let the paperwork fall from his fingers and chuckled at his own absurdity. Pushing away from the desk he got up and stretched before turning his back on the whole mess and heading out of his office.

On the desk, at the top of the discarded pile sat a report about a couple on a train heading to Winnipeg, a report so vague as to be useless but for one detail. When the agent went back to check the couple they had gone, despite the ticket clerk assuring him they were booked to travel the full trip.

They arrived at Elmore and stopped to take a break before attempting the border crossing into North Dakota. They had their story straight, even an explanation for the rental car if it was questioned. Catherine had trimmed Vincent's mane that morning, along with his beard, and she'd made a concerted effort to her own appearance, especially when Vincent produced a wrapped present for her, which turned out to be a small grooming kit with the all important tweezers inside.

For all intents and purpose they presented as a young married couple expecting their first child and returning from a last fling holiday before returning to New York. Vincent would be his true profession, a doctor, and Catherine a former legal aide. They tried to keep it simple to avoid any major pitfalls, but in the end all their careful planning wasn't needed. The crossing was simple and quick, the officer passing their documents with careful scrutiny but no comment other than to welcome them back to the U. S. of A and wish them a safe journey home. Catherine had been so wound up she had to ask Vincent to stop the car a little further along so she could burn off some of the adrenaline making her jumpy. After a good swear at the cows peacefully grazing alongside the highway, and some vigorous pacing, she returned to the car and got in. Vincent glanced sideways at her as they pulled out into the light traffic.

"Better?"

"Much."

"And here I was worrying that I was the one likely to crack."

Catherine blew out her cheeks and then laughed. "I've been so worried we'd be stopped at the last moment, it seems so silly now."

"Not silly," Vincent chided affectionately. "I was worried too."

"I had a stupid dream last night, of us getting there and running into trouble, then you beasted out and I suddenly gave birth, all there in the middle of the highway." Catherine looked over at Vincent, her fingers against her lips, then they both burst out laughing at the absurdity of it.

Vincent was able to speak first, still grinning. "Can you imagine the poor guys face having that to deal with?"

Catherine waved her hands about. "You all...rawg rawg, and me wailing my head of, he wouldn't know who to arrest first."

Vincent laughed, glad to see her relaxing at last. "So...welcome to North Dakota."

They didn't stop until they had travelled some distance south before turning east, finally making up ground to reach their destination. At length they stopped at Fargo, needing rest and a meal more substantial than package cookies and bad coffee from gas stations along the way. Vincent stopped at the first likely looking motel, the place off the main highway but offering home cooked meals and clean beds. Once they were booked in they ordered room service and kicked back.

Later, with dishes scattered around the room and the television showing some cheesy movie with the sound turned down, Vincent and Catherine lay stretched out, naked under the sheet, enjoying the aftermath of slow and sweet lovemaking. Vincent lazily nuzzled his chin against Catherine's hair while his hand stroked up and down her arm.

"I am so in love with you," he murmured, kissing her hair.

"I'll remind you of that when I'm screaming blue murder giving birth to your child," Catherine replied, turning her head and breathing deeply, loving his scent and heat radiating off his skin.

As if hearing its parents, the baby pushed outward, the movement felt by Vincent against his side.

"Woah, someone is trying to escape already."

"Wait until I'm the size of a whale, it'll be dancing a jib, at this rate," Catherine smiled. "What is this movie we're watching?"

"We're watching a movie?"Vincent queried, reaching for the remote and switching the tv off.

"Apparently not. How far are we from Minneapolis?"

"Only a couple of hours. We can have a lazy morning and be there by midday."

"I so looking forward to seeing Tess, I can't believe we've got away with it."

Vincent stopped rubbing her arm. "Got away with it?"

"We've managed to escape from Muirfield, get across the border, drive undetected all the way, and tomorrow we meet up with our friends. I'd say that covers the definition of 'getting away with it'."

"Hmmmm you could be right. Now we just have to hope that Tess and J.T managed to 'get away with it' too."

"What's the plan?"

"Once we ditch the rental, we go to the central library, use their computer to message J.T, who should be there ahead of us and waiting. Then we rendezvous and start to plan."

"Just like that?"

"Exactly like that."

"Will you be okay?"

"In the library, you mean?"

"I mean in the city, in the library, there'll be more people than we've had to cope with so far, apart from the train."

"Do I have to make love to you again to prove how much I'm in control?" Vincent teased. Catherine tilted her head back to look up into his face. When their eyes met, Vincent let the Beast off the leash just a little, enough to make his eyes glow for a second, before he tamped it down again.

"Satisfied?" he asked, looking smug.

"Maybe you should do that making love thing again, just to be sure?"

Vincent growled and slid down the bed, his hands suddenly everywhere. "Insatiable woman."

Catherine didn't reply, just threw her head back and surrendered to her lover's tender touch.

The room buzzed with voices as Director Reynolds perused the map of the states, coloured pins hastily stuck in it to indicate possible sightings of the fugitives. The pins were scattered from east to west, with no single place showing a cluster. Even the promising lead from the train to Winnipeg had proved a dead end, the agent on site unable to make any progress tracking down the elusive couple. It was late summer and there were too many trampers, bikers, tourists and holiday makers crossing back and forth over the border to make tracking one pair any easier. It was also a possibility that Vincent and Catherine were still holed up in the wilderness somewhere, but something told him that wasn't the case. The sudden disappearance of the two friends, Vargas and Forbes told him something was happening, that somehow Vincent had made contact, but now they were all under the radar with no concrete sightings of any of them.

Considering he was the head of an organisation that excelled, usually, at the cloak and dagger to the point that their agents had no fingerprints or traceable identities, it was a splinter under the skin that four amateurs managed to continually elude them.

The remaining family of Detective Chandler were being watched, but they were another dead end, knowing hardly more than a complete stranger about Catherine's double life.

The woman from Vincent's past had been less than helpful, having had no contact with Vincent for nearly a year since she skipped town to start a new life, with Catherine's help. He was surprised that Catherine had done all that for the woman, given that Alex Salter was Vincent's old lover and fiancée. But then nothing about Vincent, or Catherine for that matter, was ordinary or predictable, never had been. It was one of the reasons they made such an interesting subject to study.

Shaking his head, Reynolds focused once more on the matter in hand, and shoved his reluctant admiration for the fugitives deep inside.

Turning back to the room and the agents awaiting his orders he swept them all with a stern glare.

"I want these people found. They're still on the ground and in the country, so find them!"

Catherine and Vincent sat in a quiet café nursing hot coffee and waiting. The bell on the door pinged and they looked up, their somber expressions turning to joy to see their two friends coming towards them, similar expression on their faces. Tess hugged Catherine so hard she was sure her ribs creaked. Feeling the bulge under Catherine's coat Tess stepped back and stared at her in surprise.

"You're pregnant?"

"Twenty six weeks and counting," Catherine informed her, turning to hug J.T who looked just as stunned at the news as Tess.

They sat down and waited for the waitress to take their order before speaking again.

"How did this happen?" J. T asked. Tess rolled her eyes and punched him on the arm.

"How do you think, dummy?"

J.T blushed. "I know how, I just mean...God, what did they do to you?"

Vincent glanced at Catherine before speaking. "They didn't treat us all that bad. It wasn't a vacation, but they didn't torture us, as such."

"Obviously," Tess retorted, giving Vincent an arch look.

"Tess! They kept us under tight security and did a shit load of tests on both Vincent and me. It was only after I...we...I got pregnant that we were moved to a slightly less secure room. Even then it was an act of God that ultimately freed us."

"What do you mean?" Tess asked.

Vincent took up the story. "An earthquake demolished the corner of the building we were housed in, so we were able to escape in the confusion. We travelled overland until we lucked out at a place called Meadow Lake, which is where we first contacted you from."

"Never heard of it," Tess observed.

"I don't imagine many people have out side of northern Saskatchewan." Catherine retorted. "But the people were so kind to us and gave us a real break."

J.T leaned forward and spoke quietly to Vincent. "Have you seen or heard anything from Muirfield?"

"There was an agent on the train, which is why we had to change our plans. Haven't seen anyone since, but we've been extra careful getting here."

"Did he make you?"

Vincent shook his head. "Don't think so, but I can't be sure."

J.T glanced over at Tess, then back to Vincent. "We had to leave in a bit of a hurry. There was an agent sniffing around the building and Tess found another damn bug in her apartment. They were obviously hoping we'd lead them to you, but there's been no sigh of a tail or surveillance, I'd stake my reputation on it."

"You're staking all our lives on it, J.T. Let's get out of here and back to you place. Where are you staying?" Vincent asked.

"Just a quiet hotel not far from here, we can walk it," J.T looked over at Catherine. "If you're up to it, of course?"

It was Catherine's turn to roll her eyes, while Vincent tried to hide a smile.

"I'm pregnant, J.T, not disabled. A walk to the hotel I can manage."

Still grinning, Vincent tucked Catherine's hand into the crook of his arm. "Just in case you feel weak," he teased in an aside that earned him a glare.

The hotel was certainly modest, so modest the elevator was not working so they took the stairs. Vincent only let Catherine climb a single flight before he swept her up in his arms and carried her, much to the delight of their friends, making Catherine blush scarlet.

"Does he always do that, or is he just showing off?" Tess called from a few steps below. Catherine looked back over Vincent's shoulder and stuck her tongue out at her friend.

The room was on the third floor. Vincent set Catherine on her feet and J.T unlocked the door.

Inside the room reflected the hotel, but despite the tired décor is was clean and fresh. J.T headed for his suitcase and started to pull stuff out, including his iPad and an assortment of documents.

"I made a duplicate set of identification for you both. Hope you weren't too attached to those names because you have new ones now. I'll close that bank account and open a new one. If you can let me know you bank and pass codes, I'll empty that and transfer it to the new account."

Catherine nodded and sat down beside him, giving him the necessary information while he tapped busily on the keyboard. Vincent sat at the small table and looked through the new documents. Tess sat down opposite and pointed to the ring on his left hand.

"You get hitched and didn't tell us?"

Vincent looked at the ring, then over at Tess. "No, it's just part of the cover."

"Don't you think you should make it permanent?" Tess pushed. "I mean, now you have a kid on the way an all?"

Vincent returned her stare for a moment before glancing over at Catherine. "In a heartbeat, if she'd have me."

Tess let out a bark of laughter. "She's already had you, now you just have to keep her."

Vincent turned back to Tess with a wry smile. "I'm doing my best to do both."

While Catherine and J.T, with Tess helping worked out their next move, Vincent left to empty the hire car of his and Catherine's gear. The room at the hotel would accommodate them all easily, having a separate bedroom with an en suite attached to the twin that Tess and J.T shared. After clearing out the car of any evidence and wiping down all the surfaces to erase fingerprints he parked it some distance from the hotel in a back alley and threw the keys into a dumpster on his way back to the hotel. It would look like someone stole it, as far as the rental company was concerned, and eventually be returned to them once the plates were run. Of Heather and Ryan Kendall, they would never be seen again, their existence already cut up and buried in the hotel rubbish bags.

By the time Vincent returned the others were ready to go out for a meal, the four of them taking a table at a local Indian eatery, the choice made by Catherine who was craving butter chicken and naan bread.

They ordered something to drink and entrees then talked over their plans. J.T was the first to speak.

"Now that you have a new name, have you thought about where you're going to hide out?"

"We've talked about it, but not settled on anywhere. We've been more focused on getting away, than where to next," said Vincent.

"We can't thank you enough, J.T for all this new paperwork. Where does it all come from?" Catherine asked. J.T just shrugged.

"I've had it for as long as we've had a plan B. We knew, or at least I knew that once it was clear you weren't going away, somewhere along the way we'd have to cut and run. To do that you need papers, passports and all that. I've become a dab hands at hacking the necessary sites. The rest is just knowing the right people."

Catherine bit her lip and reached over for J.T's hand, squeezing it before letting it go.

"I don't know how we'll ever repay you."

"Don't get caught again, and don't get killed." J.T retorted, his lips smiling as if joking, but his eyes conveying how seriously he meant it.

"Amen to that!" Tess added. "Have you tried these mo-mo's they are to die for!"

Under the table Vincent reached for Catherine's hand and enfolded it in his own. They ate the rest of their meal, hands entwined, oblivious to the looks passing between their two companions.

The meal over, they returned to the hotel. Tess and J.T would be returning to New York the following day to pick up their lives again, while Vincent and Catherine would be embarking on another trip across country to find a new place to restart their lives, out of the reach of Muirfield.

They had agreed that contact between them would be non-existent, used only in the case of an emergency. It was a poignant moment when the two sets of friends bid the other goodnight before turning in. In the end the two women shared the bedroom together, talking late into the night, while Vincent took the single bed next to J.T's, the two old friends going over the finer points of their planning to avoid thinking about the severing of all ties coming the next day.

"I can't even promise to write you," Catherine hugged her best friend tightly.

"Maybe when the dust has settled you can send a postcard?" Tess suggested, holding on just as tight. "You have to let me know when the baby is born, right?"

Catherine nodded, too upset to speak.

They pulled back and clasped hands, eye equally wet meeting for a long moment. Then they let go and Catherine found herself pulled round and against Vincent broad chest, his arms holding her loosely.

The old cliché – 'not a dry eye in the house' – was an apt description of the scene.

J.T and Vincent has said their goodbyes, made final plans and promises to keep the two women as safe as they could, although J.T's was tempered by the comment that if Tess knew he was looking out for her, she'd probably shoot him.

All too soon there was nothing left to say, the two couples taking a last look before walking off in opposite directions, out of each others lives, if not for good, certainly for some time to come.

Catherine still sniffed and Vincent kept his arm about her, hugging her to his side as they walked.

Their destination was a used car lot about a block away. They were now known to the world as Rina and Kel Henderson, occupations former nightshift security and office worker. J.T has excelled himself, considering his final batch of documents for them his best yet. They had a back story and paperwork to support it, in hard copy and online. It was a new start for them and would stand up to a reasonable amount of scrutiny, although overseas travel was out of the question. Travel would have to be strictly overland.

That suited Vincent just fine, the more solitary the travel the better. But for now they needed to find something to start with.

The car lot was a short taxi ride away, heavily recommended by their driver who regaled them with a multitude of family connections to the owner. With that hearty endorsement following them, they set about finding a far that would satisfy not only their need to be anonymous, but also the need to get them across the continent. In the end they chose a 1999 GMC Sierra, with miles on the clock but in good condition for it's age, and the right price for their budget. This would be their one big purchase, the rest of Catherine's savings to be eked out for as long as possible and set them up somewhere yet to be determined. For now they intended to continue travelling south west and see where fortune led them.

The report stated that both Detective Vargas and the university lecturer had returned to their lives in New York, with no evidence that Vincent or Catherine had returned with them. Forbes was still living in Detective Chandlers apartment and her former partner had returned to work, with a her new partner. Agents had watched, listened and filmed the pair for a month and learned nothing, other than the fact the two led relatively uninteresting lives. The professor had packed up some of Detective Chandlers belonging and put them into storage, indicating that Catherine was planning on returning to New York, and the report from her family told the same story. As far as the people that knew Catherine Chandler went, they had no contact with her and no information on where she might be. The report on Vincent was short to the point of non-existent. There's been no police reports of vigilante rescues, no reports of beast attacks, nothing to indicate that Vincent was any where in or near the Big Apple. The maternity wings of all the hospitals had no reports of anyone matching Catherine's description checking in for any reason and it was too soon for the baby to arrive. She would be thirty weeks gone now and needing medical help soon, but without a fresh lead they were searching blind for a clever and resourceful fugitive. He felt a grudging admiration for the pair, but that didn't stop him ordering the agents to start a systematic search starting from New York and working their way west. It would take time and manpower, but Reynolds was determined to track them down, however long it took. The Chimera project was back on track and producing results, the success giving him more power and more resources. Vincent and Catherine would be found, and their child would provide the genesis of the next phase, it was just a matter of time.


	13. Part Thirteen

Catherine stood in the doorway of their trailer and watched as Vincent loaded the pick up with his work gear. The trailer looked out west towards a spectacular view of rising, desolate mountains, the backdrop to a junction town called Arco in Butte County, Idaho. The mountain that the trailer park's advertising hoarding referred to was called Smiley Mountain, but if she faced west, Catherine would be looking up a the prosaically named summit of JumpOff Peak. Either way, the small town sat in the mouth of a glacial valley, cradled by the Pioneer mountains and they'd chosen it for several reasons. It was small and tucked out of the way, it had numerous escape routes either out of the mountain, or further into them. There was a good medical center bordering on a hospital, and a busy tourist trade for people visiting the Craters of the Moon National Monument. The main employer for the town apart from agriculture and tourism was the Idaho National Laboratory, south of Arco, with the largely rural area having the dubious claim to fame of being the first city in the world to be lit by atomic power. In all it ticked a number of their boxes, and until their child was born this was home for the foreseeable future.

With their finances feeling the strain, Vincent found a job that allowed him to be left alone to get on with it. He checked fences from dawn to dusk, bouncing over rutted roads and rocky paddocks to fix gates, repair snapped wires and report anything unusual to his boss, a Ronald Hapstead. The previous employee for the job had been doing it all his life, but died only a day before Vincent and Catherine rolled into Arco. As luck would have it, Mr. Hapstead was at the same gas station and lamenting loudly to the station owner about his predicament. Catherine, now heavy with child, heard the gist of the conversation and, after asking a few pertinent questions, was offered the job for her 'husband'. It came with a trailer and battered pickup at a modest rent, and seemed to be a heaven-sent opportunity. Vincent welcomed the chance, something in the sparsely covered high hills feeding his soul. He'd always love New York but the mountains seemed to envelop him, as if calling him home. He couldn't explain it, but Catherine seemed to understand and didn't bat an eyelash when confronted with the less than pristine accommodation. She had had enough of travelling, her ankles starting to swell on a regular basis and her levels of energy flagging by the end of the day. They were welcomed into the small community of other residents at the trailer park as Rina and Kel Henderson, no one thinking it odd that such a handsome couple with a baby on the way should wash up in an out of the way place like Arco. After all the looking over their shoulders and sleeping in a different bed each night, it was nice to finally have a place of their own. When it was clear that they had nothing to replace the disgusting contents of the trailer, the other residents pitched in and helped Catherine clean the trailer out as well as supplying a steady stream of bits and pieces to make it a home. A week after they'd arrived Catherine found a Moses basket on her doorstep stuffed full of baby clothes. She never found out who had been so generous, but Arco was that sort of place. The population wasn't more than three thousands souls if you included all the outlying farms, which added to the attractions of the place. Two weeks after they arrived Catherine registered at the town hospital and had her first ultrasound scan of their baby.

The ultrasound technician ushered Catherine and Vincent into the darkened room and indicated for Catherine to climb on the bed and get comfortable. A few minutes later the woman squeezed gel on to Catherine's extended belly and started to moved the wand back and forth.

"Is this your first, Rina?" The woman asked cheerily, pressing down with the wand hard enough to make Catherine wince. Having a scan on a full bladder was not a comfortable procedure.

"Yes."

"Don't worry, everything is looking fine." The technician peered at the notes on the side table. "You reckon your what, thirty four weeks?"

"Um...something like that." Catherine glanced at Vincent before returning her attention to the screen.

"I'd say we're a little further along than that. I'll take some measurements, but from the look of you I'd say you were closer to thirty six. What does your O.B say?"

"We're...I'm not signed up with anyone yet. We just moved here." Catherine explained, clutching at Vincent's hand as the wand pressed down on her bladder again. "Ouch."

"Sorry, you're certainly full. You're be able to pee shortly."

Catherine managed a weak smile, all her attention on the images on the screen.

"He's gonna be a big one," the technician announced, beaming as if she'd had a hand in its creation.

"He?" Vincent rasped hoarsely.  
"Sorry, I always call them a he. Baby is actually a bit shy, and I can't see for sure. Did you want to know the sex of your child, Mr. Henderson?"

Vincent shook his head. "Does it look alright? I mean...is the baby healthy?"

"I see nothing to indicate otherwise. I'll be sending all the measurements and scans to the head of our obstetrics department, and they'll sort out a doctor for you." She produced a cloth and wiped the accumulated gel off Catherine's stomach. "All done. You can cover up again now. The bathroom is just next door."

Catherine, with Vincent's help, levered herself off the couch and walked as fast as she could, now desperate to relieve herself. Vincent hovered in the corridor, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.

"Er...Rina? You okay in there?" He called through the door after several minutes had passed.

"I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute." Catherine called.

They were walking out the front doors when a voice called to them.  
"Excuse me, Mrs. Henderson?" One of the reception nurses was waving a piece of paper at them. They turned and walked to the desk.

"Is there a problem?" Catherine asked.

"Not really, we just need you previous medical records, but you haven't listed who your regular doctor is?"

Catherine smiled wryly. "My records were lost the last time we moved." She shrugged. "They never turned up."

"Oh...okay, well...are you planning on staying here in Arco?"

"Oh, yes...we love it here," Catherine gushed, Vincent adding his bit by turning on the charm and wrapping his arm about Catherine's shoulders.

"Wouldn't want to live anywhere else, this place is perfect."

A little mesmerised by Vincent's deep voice, dark eyes and crooked smile, the nurse blinked once then smiled back at the couple.

"These things happen. I'll open a new folder for you, Mrs. Henderson..."

"Rina...please." Catherine interrupted her.

"Okay, Rina. You'll get a letter giving you your family code and name of the doctor assigned to your care."

"Thank you..." Vincent read the womans name tag. "Thank you, Cassie. We appreciate it."

"You folks have a good day.

The door of the trailer banged back on its hinges, Vincent shouldering is way inside and letting it spring back behind him, wincing as it did so. If Catherine was asleep, she'd soon be awake.

Kicking off his work boots, he padded in his socks to the tiny kitchen, pulling open the fridge to find a drink.

"Hey." A sleepy voice hailed him.

"Hye," Vincent replied. "Sorry if I woke you."

"You did, but I forgive you. I've overslept..."

Vincent too a deep pull and wiped his mouth before speaking.

"Overslept? Are you expected somewhere?"

"We are expected at Sherry's barbeque tonight. She's celebrating the arrival of her divorce papers and we're cordially invited." Still slight, made more so by the large bulge pushing out her t-shirt, Catherine leant forward for a kiss. "You smell divine, what have you been doing all day?"

"Ol' Hapstead says I'm doing my job too quickly, so he got me shifting cattle..."

Catherine looked startled. "On horse back?"

Vincent laughed. "No. On quad bike. God knows how a horse would react to having me on its back."

"So you've moved on to cattle ranching as second job?"

"More like cattle rustling, but while Hapstead is paying, I'm doing whatever he asks me to."

They kissed again, Catherine looping her arms around his neck, the baby bump keeping their lower halves from making contact. Even so, Vincent felt the baby kick, the imprint of a tiny foot felt even through his long shirt and tee.

"Some one wants our attention," he teased, moving down Catherine's neck and making her arch into him.

"I think he's tap dancing in there. I've had to pee a hundred times today." Catherine complained, moving away, detaching Vincent from his exploration of her collar bone.

"And yet, you want to go to this barbeque?" he sighed.

"It'll be fun. I know we can't go into town, but this is here, in the park. There won't be anyone we don't already know. Pleeease?" She drew out the please, her fingers playing with the hair over his ears.

"Fine. Do I get time to wash up?"

"Be quick, we're already late. Sherry said six, and it's a quarter past."

The party was in full swing by the time Vincent and Catherine put in an appearance. Sherry welcomed them both with hugs and kisses, having downed several beers already. The barbeque seemed to be where the guys were congregating, drinking beer and moving the steaks and sausages back and forth. He knew some of them, but there were several unknowns as well, his senses dulled by the stereo blasting out country music at a headache inducing level. Catherine was quickly absorbed into the circle of girlfriends and wives, her backwards glance at Vincent full of apologies for leaving him on his own. His name was called several times before it registered, and he turned to face the callers.

"I told you, Kel is completely under her thumb. He didn't even hear me call him!" A burst of laughter followed this observation and Vincent grinned to show he didn't take offense, moving towards the group of younger and older men around the barbeque.

"Here, catch..." one of the younger called, tossing Vincent a beer. He caught it but didn't move to drink it.

"Aren't you going to drink that?" one of the others goaded, putting his own to his lips and gulping the contents.

"I don't drink." Vincent stated, holding out the bottle for the younger man to take back.

The other men, older and younger, shifted positions, like a breeze ruffling a stand of trees. The music switched tracks, belting out another country and western singer, while the barbeque hissed and spat, filling the air with the pungent smell of smoke and cooked meat.

"You don't drink?"

"No. Is that a problem?" Vincent could feel the Beast inside stirring. To diffuse the situation he smiled and nodded at one of the men he knew. "Hello, Ben."

The younger unknown looked at his mates and then back at Vincent. "Do you have to ask permission from your wife for that too? Talk about pussy whipped!" A harsh bray of laughter issued from the young man, but his mates didn't join in but shifted their feet and tried to appeared absorbed in their own bottles of beer. They, less inebriated than their rash companion, had measured the breath of Vincent's shoulders combined with his height and bruiser arms, sensibly deciding that despite his aversion to beer and apparently congeniality, the stranger was probably not adverse to knocking heads together if provoked and quite capable of doing so with little effort.

In contrast their drunker friend was five foot seven of piss and stupidity – never a good combination at a gathering. Without actually appearing to move, those closest to the heckler stepped back, in anticipation of fists about to fly.

The youngster didn't notice and downed the last of his bottle, tossing it arbitrarily over his shoulder without caring where or who it landed on. Snapping the cap of the one he'd handed to Vincent, he then tipped that up to gulp down the contents.

Vincent kept his cool, his hands remaining open and relaxed at his side. He'd had plenty of time to think his way through confrontations like this one, his planning paying off, his control keeping the Beast under wraps – for now.

Catherine was sipping a glass of water, her back to the barbeque, but something alerted her that not all was well and she glanced over her shoulder. Vincent had his back to her, his body language relaxed and unthreatening, but the men and boys who had been clustered around the barbeque moments before were shifting and moving, enclosing Vincent within a loose circle where he faced a much younger man who was currently downing a beer.

One of the other women, Karen, noticed Catherine's inattention and looked over at the men.

"Don't you worry none, Rina, that's just Ronny showing off to his mates. He always tries to show up anyone new. I'm sure your Kel will be able to put him in his place, he's twice Ronny's size!"

Catherine rose awkwardly to her feet and muttered. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Walking carefully over to the group of men, Catherine pushed her way through the hedge of men and stood beside Vincent, her hand finding his and linking together.

Ronny was now swaying, the beer he'd intended for Vincent discarded and another in his hand.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" Catherine asked, keeping her tone light. "How's that cooking coming along, it smells great?"

Ronny peered at the heavily pregnant woman and leered horribly. "Look's like the missus has saved you a butt-thumping. Does she always do your fighting for you?"

Vincent felt Catherine's fingers tighten on his and he squeezed her fingers lightly. "Only on Friday's, it's my day off from butt-thumping." Lifting their joined hands, he kissed Catherine's knuckles in a salute, Catherine playing to his lead and gazing adoring up at him. It worked for the crowd, the men breaking into hearty laughter while the younger men laughed dismissively. Slowly the crowd dispersed and Vincent turned to go, letting go of Catherine's hand to put his arm around her waist.

Ronny, realising he was being patronised and losing the crowds interests, flung his bottle at Vincent's back. In a flash of movement Vincent twisted and caught the bottle aimed at his head, his fist closing and crushing the glass into pieces. There was a concerted gasp from those that saw it, Ronny taking a step back, finally realising that he was seriously outclassed. Vincent opened his hand and the shards dropped to the dirt, a welling of blood dripping coating his palm and fingers.

Karen saw the blood and hurried forward. "Come with me, I'll bind that for you. Oh dear, look out, I think Rina is about to faint."

Catherine drooped against Vincent who quickly lifted her into his arms, worried at her suddenly chalky complexion. Karen directed them both to her trailer, a few onlookers shooed away and the door shut on their faces. Vincent headed for the couch and lay Catherine down, his face creased in worry. "What can I do?" he asked Karen. She handed him a cold cloth.

"Put this on her forehead and elevate her feet. It was probably the sight of the blood that did it."

Vincent did as instructed, but shook his head. "Cath...er...Rina isn't squeamish, usually."

"She isn't pregnant usually either." Karen retorted. "Here, wave this under her nose."

She held out a small plastic capsule. Vincent waved is gingerly under Catherine's nose, her reaction immediate.

"God, that smells awful. Vincent?"

"I'm here...Rina." Vincent replied, wincing at hearing her use his real name. Karen appeared not to notice the slip, but she wasn't lacking in brains.

Catherine met his eyes and grimaced her apology at the mistake, then tried to sit up. Karen peered down at her over Vincent's shoulder. "Take it easy, will you? You don't want to fall flat on your face again."

Catherine took her warning to heart and moved slowly upright, swinging her legs over to put her feet on the floor. Vincent had been crouched beside her, but not stood up, turning to thank Karen for her help. Karen waved him away.

"Don't thank me, I didn't do anything much. That trick with the bottle was a neat one. Haven't seen reflexes like that since...well, since a long time ago."

"I was just lucky," said Vincent, not meeting her shrewd stare. Satisfied that Catherine was recovering Karen turned her attention to Vincent.

"You'd better let me dress that cut, you don't want it to turn nasty. Sit down and I'll clean it up."

Preferring to keep the woman's mind on anything other than the confusion of names, Vincent sat and allowed her to pick out the bits of glass still stuck in his skin. The cut wasn't deep but it still bled sluggishly. Soon it was bandaged up with gauze and antiseptic to prevent infection. By the time Karen was finished, Catherine was looking much better, watching the proceedings with interest.

"You're a nurse?" Catherine asked.

"Retired paramedic," Karen explained. "Old habits, and all that. Now, I suppose we should get back to this barbeque. Are you up to it, Rina?"

"Kel?" Catherine looked up at Vincent, handing the decision to him.

"Can you give us a minute, Karen?"

Karen smiled and turned to go. "Take your time. I'll see you outside."

When the door shut, Catherine tried to stand up but Vincent stopped her. "Was it just the blood or something else?" he asked.

"I'm sorry I slipped up with your name, but I don't think she noticed."

"I don't give a damn about that, why did you faint?"

"I don't know. One minute we were walking away from that...whatever it was, and the next you're putting the revolting smell under my nose."

Vincent grinned at her, loving the way her nose wrinkled up at the memory. "Do you want to go back to the party?"

"I'm fine, Vincent...really, just stay close to me?"

"I won't leave your side."

"We can stay for a little while, but I don't think I want anything cooked on that grill. The smell was making me feel sick."

"We'll stick to the salads then. We can go anytime, just say the word and we're gone."

Catherine laughed a little. "I thought it would be me reassuring you. I was so proud of you, the way you handled that idiot. I was worried..." Vincent stopped her talking by the simple expedient of kissing her.

"I've been practising that scene, out there, in my head almost every day. It was bound to happen, but I was ready for it. You don't have to protect me, Catherine, I can control it."

"If I'm not protecting you, who do I protect?" she asked. Vincent placed his hand, warm and solid on the bulge below her breasts.

"This is what you protect, our child and yourself. You are the most important part of my life, I can't imagine being alive without you beside me, with me. I love you so much..."

"I love you too." Catherine whispered, stroking his face and wishing the world outside would just melt away and leave them alone. This time the kiss was tender and lingering, the sounds outside fading away, leaving them in a soft cocoon of mutual expression. A knock at the door awoke them to the party still raging outside the trailer.

"We'd better go and show ourselves," said Vincent, getting to his feet and drawing Catherine up with him.

"The sooner we appear, the sooner we can leave. I have a sudden urge to go to bed."

"You're tired?" Vincent asked, looking surprised.

"Not a bit. I just want to go to bed." Catherine reiterated, her expression saucy.

Vincent laughed and headed for the door. "I'm suddenly feeling very tired myself."

Their return to the party was largely unremarked, but Vincent quickly established that the young man who had taunted him was no longer in evidence. Ronny had decided to beat a retreat.

Sherry was too far gone to have noticed their absence or return, Karen welcoming them back with a plate each of her own recipe potato salad, and a glass of juice. Several other people came up and patted Vincent on the shoulder or shook his hand, all of them familiar with the hot head, Ronny.

Despite the rocky start, they stayed and enjoyed the party, leaving after several others had already gone, and well before the party was showing any signs of winding down. The incident at the barbeque was the furthest from there minds as they made their way through the darkened trailer park, arms about each other, enjoying their stroll back home.

As they passed from one puddle of weak street light to the next Vincent suddenly stopped and pulled Catherine behind him.

"What is it?" Catherine asked, straining to see or hear anything out of the usual in the gloom. One of the street lamps up ahead was broken, leaving a large part of the roadway in darkness.

"Ronny is waiting for us, and he's not alone." Vincent told her, his voice barely above a growl.

"Stand next to that street lamp, and don't move." he ordered, nudging her back toward the circle of light illuminating the patch of dirt around the pole.

"Vincent?" Catherine protested, her hand on his arm.

"This won't take long." In an instant he was gone, swallowed up by the darkness, leaving her alone.

Unable to do more than wait for his return, Catherine paced back to stand in the light. A sound made her swing around and stare blindly at the shadows up ahead. A yelp followed by the sound of scuffling told her Vincent had pounced on the unsuspecting Ronny, and whoever else had been foolish enough to try and ambush them. As she hovered near the power peering into the darkness, his presence alerted her to his return. With her hand to her throat she swung around and spied him leaning nonchalantly against the street lamp as if he'd always been there.

"Is it over?" she asked, her heart tripping. "Do we have to leave?"

"Yes, and no. Ronny won't remember what hit him, or his friend. I knocked their heads together and left them outside Karen's trailer. They'll have a headache in the morning, but unlikely to know why."

"And they didn't see you?" Catherine asked as they started on the short journey to their trailer again.

"Not unless they have eyes in the back of their heads."

"Thank God. I was dreading having to run again."

They reached their trailer and went inside, Catherine suddenly weary. Together they went to get ready for bed. Later they lay cuddled together on the verge of sleep, Catherine on her side with Vincent spooned up behind her, his warm hand cradling her belly and rubbing soothing circles over the taught skin.

"I am so over being pregnant, I hope you realise?" said Catherine softly. "I feel so fat."

Vincent chuckled against her hair. "I love you being fat, almost as much as I love your hairy legs."

Catherine laughed with him, reaching back with her foot to rub it up and down his shin.

"Beast," she retorted. Vincent mock growled and mouthed her ear.

"You realise that we're living that normal I was always talking about. Tonight was nice, wasn't it?"

Vincent stopped his inspection of her shoulder and raised his head. "If you forget about the beer incident, you fainting, me cutting my hand and Ronny trying to ambush us on the way home, then yes, it was a fun night."

Catherine tried to roll over to face him but he held her in place.

"Your hand! I forgot, is it okay?"

Vincent held it up, the palm, only a thin line to show where it had been sliced by the glass. "I heal quickly, remember?"

Catherine shuddered. "I'm glad they never knew about that side of you. I can't bear to think of what they would have done to you to test that."

Vincent nuzzled her hair again. "Muirfield are history, they'll never find us. This is what you talked about when you got those fake licenses. A new life, a new normal, a new us."

"A new us." Catherine repeated, snuggling back against him. "I like the sound of that...Kel."

"That we still have to work on...Rina." Vincent shot back. "Karen didn't say anything, but I'm sure she noticed. We'll have to wait and see if she makes anything of it."

Catherine yawned. "She won't. She's nice."

Vincent knew the moment she dropped into sleep. Sleep for him was going to take a little longer. Once he was sure that Catherine wouldn't stir, he eased himself out of bed and got dressed. Despite his reassurances to his lover, he wanted to make sure that Ronny and his friend were gone. To that end he slipped out of their trailer and prowled the ground, ending up at Karen's where, sure enough, the two assailants were no longer there. Feeling the Beast twitching to be let free inside him, Vincent started to run, his long stride taking him over and beyond the fence bordering the trailer park, and out into the dark night, his muscles and bones transforming as he ran. The Beast, unleashed, roared his defiance into the silent night to be answered by the howl of coyotes. With no enemy to rend and smash, the Beast had to be content with startling a herd of deer into a stampede, their swift gait and snorting fear quickly leaving him behind.

He arrived back at their trailer once more himself, drenched in sweat and dust but more at peace, the Beast content for the moment. Letting himself in, he took a quick shower before once more joining Catherine in their bed, his arrival prompting her to turn over in her sleep and plaster herself over his chest, still dreaming. Vincent wrapped her in his arms and closed his eyes. It may not be normal for everybody, but this was their normal. At last he slept.


	14. Part Fourteen

Agent Houndslow checked his map and cursed under his breath. It was just his luck he had been assigned the state of Idaho to search. The folder on the passenger seat had images of Vincent Keller and Catherine Chandler staring up at him, their eyes accusing, if he chose to be fanciful. Every town, city and fly speck on the map had to be checked. If there was any sort of settlement, it had to be watched, assessed and reported on. Anyone loosely matching the description of the fugitives was to be followed up and images taken where possible. Already he had several thumb drives full of footage and images of potential targets. Agent Houndslow had never seen so many black haired, six foot tall, broad shouldered suspects. It didn't help that Idaho was a former Indian territory, so that black hair was almost the default setting. Now he was approaching the north of the territory and a several small population centers, one of the larger being a fly spec with about a thousand souls, give or take, called Arco. He could see an impressive mountain range starting to rise above the horizon, the surrounding area stretching away made up of scrub and grass, all the same dull sage colour, the road stretching away black and unbroken ahead of him.

It was dark when he arrived in the main street of Arco, several store fronts lit up with colourful neons, one claiming the town was the first to be lit by atomic power, the arcane phrase making him smile. It was like being transported to a bad fifties movie. He expected to see a giant spider or rampant tarantula appear above the building, the image staying with him as he slowly cruised the main strip, then turned down one of the side street and slowly trawled the neighbourhood, such as it was. One turn brought him to an information center, a large sign displaying a map of the town. Pulling out a torch, he parked the car and got out. A quick survey showed him where he could start looking for any likely suspects. Protocol dictated that any fugitive was likely to be hiding somewhere out of the way, cheap and easily overlooked, so his first port of call in any town was the RV and trailer parks.

After booking in to the local motel. Agent Houndslow started his search. The manager of the motel was predictably unhelpful, so he drove instead to the first RV park. There were plenty of vehicles there, most of them obviously rentals for tourists. He ignored those after a cursory search and moved on to those parked at the back, or those looking less than pristine. He was challenged several times, but with each he gave them the same cover story, of a private detective looking for a runaway teen. Depending on the person asking, he'd vary the story, sometimes a bounty hunter looking for a mark, sometimes a police officer looking for a bail jumper, and so it went on. He had all the necessary credentials to represent himself as practically anyone other than the President of the United States, and that only because he was the wrong colour.

Drawing a dead end at the first RV park, he moved on to the next, this one tucked at the very back of the settlement down a dusty road. Here were more permanent residents, a more likely hunting ground for the people he was looking for. Finding no manager in the office, he prowled around the grounds, peering wherever possible into the trailers themselves, scoping out the occupants without them realising that anyone was snooping. At the end of one of the rows he tried to look in a window only to find himself pressed up against the side of the building with a harsh male voice demanding what he thought he was doing there. Turning around slowly he reached into his coat and withdrew his I.D.

"I'm a private eye looking for a runaway," he explained to the man holding a hunting rifle on him. "Let's just take it easy, I can explain."

"I'd like to hear that one. What's wrong with knocking on doors? You looked like you were peeking in windows like some pervert." The rifle was rock steady and Houndslow wasn't about to provoke him.

"If you'll put down the weapon, maybe you can help me find who I'm looking for."

Lights were coming on and people spilling out of their trailers to see what the ruckus was about. Houndslow cursed under his breath. Bloody hicks, they always have to know what's going on.

"What you got there, Bryan?" a woman called, others asking the man the same question.

"Say's he's a P.I looking for someone."

"I think you can put your gun down, Bryan, he's not going anywhere. Where you from?" the woman asked as the man, Bryan, lowered his gun.

"I'm looking for someone," he reached into his coat and slowly pulled out small photos of Vincent Keller and Catherine Chandler. "If you've seen them, there's a reward for information."

The offer of a reward often produced results, especially when people were down on their luck, Houndslow seeing the pictures passed around, but nobody taking the bait.

"Can't remember seeing anyone like this here. Have you tried the RV park on the other side of town?" the woman suggested, folding her arms across her chest, pocketing the photos without anyone noticing.

"Been there already. If anyone knows anything about these people, I'll be staying at the motel in the center of town. I'm there until tomorrow."

"How big is this rewards?" someone called out. Houndslow gave the questioner a small smile.

"That's for anyone who has information, so you want to know how much, tell me what I want to know."

No one spoke so he adjusted his coat and walked back to his car, content that he'd cast his lure. If there was anything to find out in this hicksville, he'd know about it before breakfast tomorrow.

Vincent melted back into the shadows, his eyes glowing a deep gold. He'd smelt the agent long before he'd appeared, and had been about to pounce when Bryan preempted him and bailed the guy up against the trailer. He'd heard everything, as well as the muttering from the small crowd when the word 'reward' was mentioned. Money was scarce for some, and a reward was like winning the lottery, although Vincent was pretty sure whoever spoke to the agent wouldn't see a penny. By tomorrow the news would be all over town, and any newcomers looked at with suspicion.

His and Catherine's normal had just evaporated.

Returning to their trailer he opened the door and prepared to tell Catherine what had happened, but she was on the floor, bent over and moaning.

"Catherine!" Crouching beside her he tried to lift her up. Catherine gripped his hand, her lips pressed close together in a thin line as pain swept over her again.

"It's too soon," she gasped, one arm around her distended belly in a protective gesture. "Vincent, it's too soon."

"Let me get you on the couch, tell me what's happening." Despite the panic wanting to break free, first and foremost he was a doctor, his beloved Catherine was in labour, and at least four weeks early unless their calculations were off.

Catherine's trousers were soaked, so he helped her peel them off before placing a towel to soak up the amniotic fluid still trickling out.

"We need to get you to the medical center..."Vincent started to say but Catherine wasn't listening, her moan ending in a wail as a strong contraction gripped her abdomen.

He could feel the skin and muscles contract under his hand, the contraction releasing its grip just long enough for Catherine to speak. "No time...you're going... to deliver...our baby...ngaaaah"

Another contraction swiftly followed on the first and Vincent forgot everything else but what Catherine needed from him now.

"I have to go get Karen, I'll be back in a minute." He didn't wait for her to reply but ran out the door, and flashed across to the former paramedic's trailer. His knock was answered instantly.

"Kel? What's the matter?"

"It's Cat...Rina...she's in labour and I don't think we have time for the hospital."

"I'll be right there." She'd hardly finished speaking and Vincent was gone into the shadows.

Catherine was as he'd left her, riding out the contractions, panting rapidly to lessen the pain.

"I'm back, love. Come on, try and walk, it'll help..." He put his arm about her and lifted her upright. Catherine keened as another strong contraction gripped her middle. Karen appeared in the doorway and bustled in, taking in the situation with a practised eye.

"Alright, Rina girl, I'm here and you have your man here too. Let's get you out of these things and into bed. This baby is going to be here soon."

Between them they had Catherine in a dry clothes and on the bed in no time at all. While Vincent held Catherine and helped with her breathing, Karen efficiently set about getting boiling water to sterilise her small collection of instruments to use if needed.

"Vincent," Catherine panted, "it's ripping me apart!" She screamed and Vincent felt his heart jerk in sudden fear for her life. Karen positioned herself between Catherine's legs, surgical gloves on her hands.

"You're almost there, I can see the baby is crowning, take a deep breath my girl and push."

Catherine threw her head back and screamed, the contraction forcing the baby out in a rush of fluid, Vincent feeling the bones in his hand crack from Catherine's grip.

Karen wiped the baby's face, eyes and nose, clamped off the cord and looked up briefly for Vincent's permission to cut it. He nodded, his eyes fixed on the face of his child. As yet the baby hadn't cried, but Karen expertly wrapped it in a square of cloth and patted it firmly on it's back. At once the bedroom was filled with the cries of the newborn, the girl child handed to Vincent who cradled the tiny miracle for a few moments before handing her to Catherine.

"You're amazing," Vincent told her, kissing her sweat soaked forehead and smoothing her hair away from her face.

Karen dealt with the afterbirth, then returned to check for any tears. "That was one eager baby. Never seen one shoot out so fast. Usually the first takes hours, sometimes days before emerging."

"Guess she was impatient," Vincent whispered, Catherine tearing her eyes away from their fascination with the bundle in her arms to gaze up at Vincent, tears spilling over her lashes.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

Vincent grinned down at her. "The most beautiful baby ever."

A loud snort of wry amusement from the end of the bed went unremarked. "You were lucky, there's no tearing, but you'll be sore so don't expect to be running around for a few days. Rest and sleep and feed your baby, that's all you have to do."

Catherine looked a Karen with brimming eyes. "Thank you, I don't know what we would have done without you."

Karen smiled at the new mother and packed up her kit. "Nice to know my skills aren't that rusty yet. This makes number fifty six on my tally of babies born before making it to the hospital. I'd recommend you go along when you're ready for a check up, but plenty of rest and good food will see you right. Remember, what you eat, she eats, so no alcohol, keep away from strong tasting foods, and drink plenty of water. You'll need to change that pad regularly for the next twenty four hours or so, but I'll pop around tomorrow and see how you're going. Goodnight, sleep well."

The new parents hardly noticed, Vincent already besotted with his baby girl, his large fingers delighting in having tiny digits curl around them. Catherine was talking nonsense in soft tones, fighting to keep her eyes open as the short and violent birth took its toll.

Vincent took the tiny bundle from her arms when she lost the battle and nodded off to sleep. The baby fussed a little then settled, its tiny wrinkled face working as it opened and shut its mouth, eyes still screwed shut. Carrying his daughter into the kitchen, Vincent rocked and murmured to his child until it too drifted into sleep. Pulling back the wrap, he exposed a thatch of dark hair covering the baby's head, the strands so fine he hardly dared touch it.

"Just as beautiful as your mother," he whispered, before switching off the light, locking the door and walking back into the bedroom. Carefully he discarded his boots and lay down next to Catherine, the baby cradled in his arms and against his heart.

For the next hour or so he lay there, the baby snug and safe in his arms, his wonderful Catherine sleeping peacefully at his side. Tomorrow would be soon enough to break the news about the Muirfield agent who'd turned up at the trailer park. If anyone did try to get the reward and mentioned Catherine and himself, the agent would still need to come back and see for himself. If he did, Vincent would deal with him. There was a lot of back country around them where a body could be lost and never found.


	15. Part Fifteen

When Vincent awoke the next morning it was to the sight of Catherine feeding their hungry offspring, the baby's fist resting against the rise of its mothers breast while it tugged and suckled contentedly.  
"Good morning," Vincent murmured, fascinated by the view. Catherine's breasts looked full and lush, the nipples much darker than usual and prominent. A rush of lust made him blush and hurriedly get up, using the excuse of needing the bathroom to hide his reaction to seeing Catherine looking so relaxed and maternal.

He spent quite some time in the kitchen fixing breakfast, bringing it in on a tray to share with her.

The baby was on her shoulder, wrapped in a different cloth than the night before, Catherine rubbing circles on the baby's back to bring up wind. An audible burp announced its arrival and they both laughed, the baby jerking in surprise at the sound, its eyes opening to stare blinking up at its parents.

"Here," Catherine offered up the wriggling bundle. "You can have a go, I'm sure that's not all she has to offer." Handing her daughter off to Vincent, Catherine reached for a slice of toast and munched hungrily. Vincent gingerly handled the squirming child, careful to support her head, onto his shoulder where she lay, her soft head heavy and warm against his neck.

"Have you thought of a name?" he asked, holding the baby with one hand while lifting his mug for a drink with the other.

Catherine leaned back against the pillow and sighed. "I've thought of any number of names, but can't decide on one. What was your mother's name?"

"Annabelle, but don't you want to name her for your mother?"

"We can do both. What do you think of Belle, or Bella?"

The baby chose that moment to bring up its wind, Vincent grinning over the baby's head at Catherine.

"I think she approves. What do you think, Bella?"

"Oh, dear..." Catherine giggled. "You realise we can never get married."

Vincent shot his lover a wry look. "I suppose you mean she can never have my name."

Catherine giggled again. "Maybe we should think of another name for her..."

He shook his head, grinning at her. "She'll have your name, so no problem there."

Catherine sobered, reaching your her arms for her baby, Vincent handing her over. "So you've thought about getting married?"

"Haven't you?" she shot back, swinging her legs out of the bed and placing the baby in the Moses basket beside her. Vincent held up his hand with the fake wedding band around his finger.

"I'm kind of getting used to this."

Catherine settled the baby then got back into bed, resuming her interrupted breakfast. "Will you marry me, Vincent?"

"In a heartbeat." His instant reply brought a lump to her throat, her eyes shining as he leant in and kissed her softly, tasting of coffee and love. Looping her arms around his neck, she held him there, exchanging nibbles and toe curling kisses for a long moment, before pulling back.

"I love you, more than I thought I could love anyone, ever. And I love our baby and our life together." Vincent avowed, his eyes lit with a park that burned only for her.

"I didn't know I could love anyone the way I love you," Catherine replied. "You are a part of me, in a way no one has ever been before. You are my everything, Vincent."

"As you are mine." At the back of his mind niggled the events of the night before, but this wasn't the time and certainly not the moment to mention the Muirfield agent and their possible need to flee again. Catherine had enough to deal with without worrying about that. Instead he sat beside her and fed her the remainder of their breakfast while their beautiful Bella slept baby dreams beside them.

True to her word, Karen came around to visit after lunch, Vincent speaking to her briefly before she went in to see Catherine. As he expected, Karen was already ahead of him.

" Karen, thank you for last night..."

"Nothing to thank me for...Vincent." She met his intent gaze steadily. "Yes, I know who you are, that man last night was passing around a photo, and despite this," she tugged on his beard, "you're a hard man to forget."

"I was there, I heard him. What he told everyone was a lie. There will be no reward for information, the people he works for prefer to eliminate any witnesses, rather than pay them."

"Have you told her?" Karen asked, indicating the bedroom door.

"No, and I'd prefer if you didn't either. I don't want to spoil things unless I have to. We're happy here, Karen, and I want it to stay that way."

Karen held up her hands in an attempt to sooth Vincent's fierce expression. "I'm not going to tell her, big guy, so cool your jets. But others will just as easily put two and two together to make five. You've made a good impression, and I'm sure most people would tell the guy to go hang himself, but there's a few in this town that would sell their mothers for a buck, so I hope you have a plan to deal with that."

"I do." Vincents short, hard reply sent a shiver down Karen's spine, something about the darkly handsome young man in front of her giving her a moments pause. She pitied anyone that tried to harm this man's family. Karen nodded, then gave him a broad smile.

"Now, time for me to check on your lovely wife and her baby. Are you heading out?"

Vincent took her cue and smiled back. "Still have to earn my way, and old man Hapstead won't thank me if his cattle get out of the top pasture because the fence is busted."

Karen watched him leave, admiring the ripple of muscle under the young man's work shirt as he stomped his boots on before pulling the screen door open and letting it bang shut behind him. Emitting a purely feminine sigh of appreciation, she turned to enter the bedroom, her face lighting up at the sight of Catherine, no Rina – she reminded herself – in bed feeding the baby.

Agent Houndslow sat sipping his morning coffee and perusing the local excuse for a newspaper, reading riveting articles about local farming incidents and community events. A knock at the door made his discard the paper and hurry to open the door. Outside stood a young punk in ripped jeans, baggy tee shirt and cap. Houndslow looking him up and down.

"Can I help you?"

The punk glanced to left and right then lifted his head. "More like how can I help you. I've come about the reward."

"Of course you have. Come on in and tell me what you know." Houndslow waved him into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Vincent crouched on the roof of a building opposite the motel and watched the comings and goings. He had seen Ronny approach one of the units and go inside. That had been an hour ago and the youngster hadn't appeared since, neither had the Muirfield agent. Raising his head he sniffed the air, reaching out with his senses to detect anything that shouldn't be there. Almost at once he found what he was looking for, the scent of blood and hot cordite. Someone had fired a gun recently and someone had been shot. The breeze shifted and the smell of blood suddenly swamped him. Running to the back of the building, Vincent checked that the area was clear before jumping to the ground. The pickup was around the corner and he jogged back to it, hopping in and gunning the motor to return with all speed to the trailer park. It wouldn't be long before the agent came to find them.

Catherine was asleep when he entered their trailer, Karen still there with baby Bella in her arms in the kitchen. She saw Vincent and instantly stopped rocking.

"What is it?"

"We have to go. Ronny is probably dead and that agent will be here soon."

Karen stood there for a moment with her mouth open then snapped it shut. "Bring Catherine to my trailer, I'll take Bella. No one will look for them there."

Vincent paused for a moment then nodded, hurrying to the bedroom to wake Catherine. She was deeply asleep and difficult to rouse. In the end he simply folded the bedclothes over her and picker her up in his arms. As he swung her up she protested.

"Vincent! What are you doing?"

"I'm taking you to Karen's trailer, you'll be safe there. She has Bella, so relax and let me carry you."

"I do have legs, you know." Catherine argued, struggling to free herself from the enveloping bedding.

"Stop wriggling or I'll drop you." Vincent was already out of the trailer and dodging among the trailers to where Karen walked ahead, Bella on her shoulder. Catherine stopped talking, taking in Vincent's grim expression and Karen's intent searching of the area ahead of them.  
"What haven't you told me?" she asked, doing her best to hide her alarm. They had reached Karen's trailer and Vincent carried her inside, depositing her – bedding and all – on the couch. He framed her face with his hands and kissed her.

"Don't leave here, for any reason, stay with Karen and protect Bella."

"Vincent?" to bewildered to hide her fear, she gripped his hands. "What is it?"

He ignored her question and kissed her again. "Stay here."

Then he was gone, Catherine staring after him in confusion. A cry from the baby drew her attention back to the other woman. Karen gave her an eloquent shrug and cooed to sooth the baby.

Vincent returned to their trailer and started packing up their belonging, stowing them in their truck ready for a hasty departure. Everything they owned was soon packed under the tarp. whatever happened next, they had the means to make a quick getaway.

The Beast was straining at his mental leash, Vincent's eyes glowing a bright gold at the thought of the fight to come. Securing the last cord securing the cover he looked up at the sky, seeing a huge bank of clouds gathering over the mountains, looming black and heavy with rain. A cold wind swept past him, Vincent putting his head back and inhaling the air, filled as it was with the redolent smells of earth, rain and rock mixed in with animals and people, hot asphalt and fumes. The sun disappeared behind the encroaching clouds and plunged the landscape into black and white.

Entering the trailer for the last time, Vincent completed a final check that nothing had been left behind then exited via one of the bedroom windows. A thick hedge shielded him from any casual watchers while he waited for the Muirfield agent to play his hand. His blood ran hot and fast in his veins, the Beast biding its time but eager to be allowed to rend and tear, his body preparing to fight to the last breath to protect his family.


	16. Part Sixteen

Agent Houndslow had already submitted his report and now prepared himself to go ferret out the object of the nationwide search so consuming the resources of the Muirfield organisation.

The punk had been most helpful, but his reward had not been what he'd expected, his body stuffed into the closet of the agents motel room to be found some time after the agent was long gone. The scene would baffle and confound the local constabulary with little left for them to go on. Having no fingerprints had it's compensations.

Climbing into his car, the agent check his gun's safety was off and the silencer tight on the end of the muzzle. He had been thoroughly briefed before being sent out on this assignment, and his quarry was not to be treated with anything other than extreme caution. Vincent Keller was a mutant hybrid with extraordinary strength and uncanny senses, but he was still just a man. If Agent Houndslow could get the drop on him and take his bitch hostage, he would be easy to tame.

Leaving the motel, the agent drove slowly to the trailer park he'd visited the previous day. Over head heavy clouds wreathed the hill tops, a brisk wind sending leaves and dust swirling along the road. He parked on the road before the entrance, sure that his cautionary approach would give him the drop on his quarry. Vincent Keller was supposedly ex special forces, but that had been a decade ago, and Agent Houndslow had a reputation for being a on top of his game in hand to hand combat and marksmanship. In that regard he was the right man in the right place to take down Keller and whoever was with him. In his coat pocket he had several hypodermic so that once he had the hybrid on the ground he would stay there. Already the forces of Muirfield would be scrambling helicopters to reach this fly speck of a space in record time. Before they arrived the agent expected to have his assignment completed and secured, ready for transportation.

With these clear goals in mind he skirted the trailer park and approached from the far end, the target trailer his main objective. The approaching storm sent a smattering of rain as a precursor of the downpour to come, the spots appearing black in the dust at his feet. None of the residents appeared to be moving about the camp, preferring to shelter in their trailers, leaving the field clear for the agent to approach the fugitives trailer unchallenged. The trees above his head were starting to shake and rattle as the wind rose, shedding leaves like confetti as he reached for the door handle, gun at the ready, his eyes darting left and right on the look out for an ambush.

The inside was dark and silent, his feet making no sound on the vinyl flooring. A flash from outside announced the arrival of the storm at last, a drumming on the roof almost as loud as the thunder as he checked the few rooms, finding the place stripped of belongings and obviously deserted.

Cursing, thinking his targets gone, he lowered his gun, not seeing the monstrous shadow that stood framed in the doorway for a second before moving out of view.

"Motherfucker," Agent Houndslow swore, kicking out at the table and sending it flying. Another flash of lightning illuminated the shadows for a second and he noted a movement. Bringing up his gun he fired a shot, the sound muted by the silencer. The bullet send shards of cheap timber flying from the door frame, another flash and rumble rolling over the trailer, his sixth sense warning him a second before the Beast launched itself at him and sent him flying, the gun skittering across the floor to end up under the couch.

Agent Houndslow suddenly found himself battling a monster that seemed to fill the small space, eyes glowing an unearthly gold while vicious claws ripped his clothes to shreds with each swipe.

He managed to land a lucky kick and the Beast rolled away from him, giving him precious moments to gather himself. This was no brawl, it was a fight for survival. His. He fumbled for the knife tucked into his boot, the blade catching the next flash of lightning as the Beast rushed him again. The blade sank home into all too human flesh but that didn't slow the creature down, the agent staring into golden death as fangs tore out his throat and he dropped to the floor, blood gushing from the wound.

Vincent bent over the body, the smell and taste of blood sickening him. He spat to clear his mouth, his own blood pounding in his ears, his breathing a loud rasp in the suddenly quiet aftermath of the storm outside and in. A piercing pain drew his attention to the knife still sticking out of his side. Vincent drew in a sharp breath and pulled it out, clamping his already bloody hand over the wound to stem the spurt of blood that followed the blade. Taking off his own shirt, he wadded it to make a pad to cover the injury before lurching outside to bathe in the steady downpour. It soaked him in seconds, washing away the blood to mix with the muddy rivulets, lightning still flashing intermittently as the storm moved up the valley and over the mountain range. He filled his mouth with the rain, washing out the taste of death, his wound already healed enough to remove the pad, his shirt a gory mess. Glancing back at the dark doorway of the trailer he paused to consider if leaving the agent there, as an example to Muirfield of what would happen to anyone sent after them, would serve any purpose. In the end the decision was taken out of his hands, the distant beat of helicopter blades reaching his keen hearing and sending him sprinting for Karen's trailer.

They had run out of time.

"You can't leave me, leave us..." Catherine pleaded with him, but Vincent ignored them.

"You'll be safer here, with Karen. Bella will be safe with you and that's all that matters. I can lead them into the mountains, they'll never catch me. Karen is taking our pick up to hide it, and she'll make sure you're not discovered. You have to trust me, Catherine, this is the only way."

Catherine tried to suppress the upwelling of emotion choking her.

"They'll never believe you've taken a pregnant woman into the hill with you. They'll search everywhere and find me, find us...Vincent!" She almost screamed his name, begging him to listen to her, to take her with him. He rounded on her and gripped her arms, the baby thankfully still asleep despite the altercation between its parents in the next room.

"Listen to me, Catherine, I'm not leaving you or Bella for long. Just long enough to lose Muirfield so we can make a clean getaway." He stared into her eyes and willed her to understand. It wasn't a great plan, but it was the only one he had. He was placing a great deal of trust in Karen, but he had no choice. "I'll take old man Hapstead's pick up and lead them away from Arco, and while they're chasing me, you get in our truck and head in the opposite direction. You know the plan. I'll catch up with you once I've lost Muirfield in the foothills and canyons. You can't stay here. Once the police discover the agent in our trailer you'll be a suspect as well. I'll clean out his car of anything that ties us in with him, but I can't guarantee...Catherine, I can't do this if I don't know you're safe."

Catherine bit her lip, and blinked to clear the tears from her eyes. Vincent looked so worried, his brows drawn together as he tried to deal with her fears as well as his own.

"Go," she whispered, steeling herself. Vincent stared at her for a long moment then pulled her close, kissing as if it was the last ever kiss between them. Catherine clutched him while his hands cradled her face. Then he let go and was gone, leaving her with empty arms and a bleeding heart.

Vincent threw himself into the cab of the pickup and tossed the paper bag of evidence from the agents car into the footwell on the passenger side. Shoving the old pickup into gear he took off down the road, the clatter of helicopter rotors almost on top of him. He deliberately leaned out of the window, showing his face to the hovering enemy, knowing they would see him and give chase. Gunning the motor he raced through the quiet streets and headed for the highway leading into the mountains, route ninety three winding its way for hundreds of miles through the northern ranges, right out of Idaho and clear across the Canadian border. He didn't imagine he'd get as far as that, but in theory it would take him straight to Calgary, through tortuous roads and infamous passes, often unusable due to heavy snow in the winter. For now he just wanted to lead his enemies on a merry chase away from Arco to give Catherine the best chance of escaping with their child.

The storm that had hammered the small town had also moved up the valley, leaving full ditches and soaked roads, flooded in places, in its wake. The gloom of the afternoon was sliding into dusk, the valley walls closing in around him as he pushed the old pick up to its limit, the downdraft of the helicopter kicking up spray around him, a high powered spotlight illuminating the road ahead, or shining in the cab in an effort to blind him and slow him down. The aircraft had little room to move in the confined valley, darkness making judging distances to unforgiving rock walls difficult, as well as having to dodge the power lines at the side of the road. Vincent roared past several cars wending their way north, the pick up slewing about in the slippery conditions, not helped by its nearly bald tires. Vincent fought the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, the truck acting like a bucking bronco, always trying to veer off the road, or slide sideways into a ditch.

Agent Collins peered down at the fleeing truck through the scope of his high powered rifle. The helicopter wasn't making his job any easier, the constant weaving back and forth making a clear shot almost impossible.

"Keep this fuckin's bird level!" he bellowed at the pilot, receiving an equally pithy reply and no improvement in the jolting ride. Hoisting the rifle again he took aim and squeezed the trigger. The gun bucked and he saw a hole appear in the roof of the cab. It was near dark and only the infrared enabled him to see even that much. The pick up didn't slow but continued to careen at full speed along the pitch black highway, the invisible mountains now a hidden threat to man and machine alike.

Catherine stood in the doorway of Karen's trailer and watched the lights of the helicopters disappear into the distance, soon lost to sight around the curve of the hills. The cry of her baby girl drew her back indoor, the demands of motherhood banishing all other thoughts, much to her relief. Bella only had her mother to protect her now, a job Catherine would carry out to the letter. As the baby fed she mentally reviewed her options.

Karen returned from her task and reported the pick up safely stowed in a lock up across town. Now it was only a matter of smuggling Catherine and the baby out of the trailer park before either the police of their enemies put in an appearance. The only person not abiding by any schedule other than her own was Bella, the baby suckling contentedly at Catherine's breast, her tiny pink starfish hands spread over her mother's pale skin.

Catherine looked up a the woman who had become a close friend literally over night.

"Vincent and I don't know how to thank you enough for all you've done."

Karen waved her off. "There's nothing to thank me for. Not much happens around here, usually. You two have provided enough excitement to keep the locals babbling for months. You needed help, and I was able to provide it."

"There's so much you don't know..." Catherine started to say, but Karen held up her hand to stop her.

"What you don't tell me, I won't have to lie about. I know enough as it is, and I'm going to have to tell a fib or too to cover your tracks, but I don't mind that. The important thing is you have to keep yourself safe, and the baby too. Your young man is going to a great deal of trouble to give you a chance to escape, so don't let it be in vain."

"It won't. I only hope he manages to escape as well." Catherine worried at her bottom lip, the baby letting go of her nipple with an audible pop. While she lay Bella on her shoulder to bring up wind, Karen opened a cupboard and pulled out a box. "You might find these useful." She placed the box on the table and pulled the flaps open. Catherine peered inside.

"Wigs?"

"I went through a phase of trying all sorts of crazy stuff. My mid life crisis, if you like. These are good wigs, all sorts of colours and styles, and they might just help you in a pinch. You're too pretty to pass unnoticed, but a change of hair colour and some glasses can work wonders in confusing a description from witnesses."

"Thank you, Karen. You've been so kind, and you don't even know what we've done to have to resort to such measures."

Karen held up her hand again. "All I need to know is that you needed help. Now let's get you ready to leave. My car is right by the door. We'll drive to the lock up, and if anyone bothers to ask, I'll say my sister was staying for a flying visit. She's done that in the past, so no-one will question it."

The two women hugged and said goodbye, Karen giving Bella a farewell cuddle and kiss before helping to strap the infant into the baby car seat beside Catherine. Then it was time for them to go, Catherine pulling out into the road and slowly driving through Main street, past the driveway leading to the motel, the forecourt illuminated by the flashing lights of two police cars in front of one of the units. Steadily she drove out of town, the baby sleeping beside her in the cab, taking the right fork onto highway twenty six west out of Arco, carrying her past the airport and on to the Craters of the Moon lava field. An hour after leaving she was passing through Carey on her way to her destination for the night, Twin Falls. There she would stay for a day before heading out the following night. As she drove she had to fight to prevent herself spinning the wheel and heading back the way she'd come. Back in the mountains Vincent was giving her time to get away, but her mind tortured her with images of him once more ensnared by Muirfield, or worse – driven off the road and smashed, even dead, all at the hands of his enemies with nothing she could do to stop it.

Shaking her head to chase the horrible images away, she reached for the radio and switched it on, filling the cab with late night radio love songs, some of them poignant enough to make her weep.

One in particular seemed to echo her own despair.

"Be safe, my love, come back to me. Don't leave me now, to live my life without you..."


	17. Part Seventeen

Director Reynold reread the report for the third time, still unable to believe his agents had managed to bungle the opportunity handed to them on a plate. The casualty list stood at one agent on the ground – deceased – one helicopter and flight crew – five deceased, and Vincent Keller still eluded them. The remaining helicopter had returned to the nearest airport to refuel and wait out the storm that put paid to the other.

"God, dammit, motherfuckin' bastard of a..." Reynold swore, switching from English to his mother tongue to finish with a string of colourful stress relievers, his fist banging down on the desk to emphasise his frustration. Pushing back forcibly, he stood up and started to pace, hands on hips, brows drawn down in a scowl as he contemplated his next move. What had started out as a relatively simple search and recover, was now escalating into a search and destroy. His agents were good men at what they did, but it was going to be hard to convince them that this particular quarry was worth bringing home in one piece.

And the report didn't even confirm if Catherine Chandler was even with Vincent any more, or whether she had given birth yet, miscarried or died somewhere along the way.

Growling to himself he picked up an inoffensive paperweight only to throw it, smashing it against the wall to shatter and send shards of glass everywhere.  
"Bastard!"

Seething, he marched out of his office and barked at the agent sitting at the desk outside.

"Clear that mess up, I'm going to the lab."

It took all of the very long elevator ride down to the testing labs for him to regain his urbane demeanour once more, his hand smoothing over his hair as the doors slid open and he walked out.

The cool corridors and neatly labeled doors soothed him even further so that he was almost in a jovial mood when he entered testing room five to watch proceedings. He nodded to the technicians busy at their consoles, information streaming across the screens being collated, recorded, measured and assessed as quickly as it was gathered. Beyond a thick security glass screen that stretched floor to ceiling, a young man with wide shoulders and slim hips went through a series of martial arts moves using a combination of kick boxing padded dummies and boxing bags as his opponents. He was stripped to the waist and his skin glistened with sweat as he moved his arms and legs in coordinated attack patterns, his expression intent and focused.

Reynolds approached the glass and stood with his hands behind his back beside a white coated figure, both men watching the performance on the other side of the glass.

"How long has he been at this level of intensity?"  
"Ah, Director Reynolds, nice to see you. To answer your question, three hours straight, and still no sigh of fatigue or tiredness."

Reynolds turned his head to regard the shorter man in surprise. "Three hours, and nothing but a bit of sweat to show for it? I'm impressed. This far exceeds our expectations."

"As he does ours. Of course, such excessive physical outlay comes with its own unique set of side effects, but despite that we are very pleased with his progress."

"Side effects?" Reynolds asked.

"The more positive effects are a greater bone density, greater strength, endurance, recovery time, resting heart rate and blood oxygen levels." The doctor ticked off the points with his fingers.

"And the downside?" Reynolds pushed.

"Night terrors, insomnia, enlarged heart syndrome similar to top level long distance athletes, heightened aggression, psychosis, paranoia, excess of adrenaline and dopamine and an inability to react to pain stimuli."

Reynolds laughed. "How is that a bad thing?"

The doctor snorted. "You could beat him to a pulp and he'd come back for more, certainly, then drop dead because he didn't know when to stop – pain tells you when to stop. No pain, you keep going until you're dead. Not exactly a positive outcome."

"Agree, but just the sort of side effect useful in a super soldier."

"Don't use that term, it's abhorrent to me. I prefer enhanced human." The doctor quibbled, giving a delicate shudder.

"How many do we have?"

"Subject three is our most promising candidate to date. The others are coming along, but the experiments with the women were mostly failures. Something about their biology, we've yet to figure it out. Here, I'll show you..."

The two men turned and left the exhibition of enhanced physical endurance and entered a small room off to the side. Here, the doctor approached the desk and sat down, indicating for Reynolds to take the other chair.

"We have had some success with the women, on the level of heightened senses we can count them a success, their physical testing has also been very satisfactory..."

"But?" Reynolds interrupted, wanting to get to the point quickly.

"But, there a psychological issues that we just can't seem to put a finger on. It may come back to their levels of hormones affecting their reasoning, but I'll need more time to test that."

"So, we have at least seven test subjects, all male, that are responding to the hybridisation with positive results, would I be right Doctor Evans?" Reynolds perused the reports the doctor pushed across the desk to him. "Any ready to put in the field?"

"Not even close, if you want my opinion. I've read through all Doctor Chandlers notes, journals, the official records and the unofficial. The whole original Chimera Project had to be scrapped because of the side effects, the men becoming the worst kind of animal – a rabid dog."

"All except one," Reynolds reminded him. "Vincent Keller."

"Yes, well..." the doctor laced his fingers together on the desk top and leant forward. "We've yet to determine why he was so very different from the other men and women in his special forces unit."

Reynold looked up, his eyebrows reaching for his hair line. "Are you telling me that after having him here for months, and taking every possible sample to test, we still don't have the answer to that question?"

"As I tried to point out in my last report, you can't just create a Chimera and not take the man as a whole into consideration. You turn a brute into a Chimera, but he still remains a brute., just one with enhanced sense and capabilities making him a very dangerous brute."

"And you're saying that Vincent Keller was never a brute, and this made it better – how?"

"You can answer that quite readily yourself, Director. Turning a man into a monster has as much to do with his head and his heart, as it does with all the physical enhancements."

Reynolds scowled. He would have liked to have laughed in the doctors face for his sentimental crap, but the facts spoke for themselves. The better the man, the better the monster, and Vincent Keller was certainly a man with a conscience.

Reynolds got to his feet and reached out to shake Doctor Evans hand. "Keep me posted on progress."

"As always, Director."

Reynold walked out of the doctor's office and through the lab, not pausing to watch the young man still going through his exhaustive routines beyond the glass wall. Out in the corridor he paused. An agent passing stopped as well.

"Do you need something, Director?"

Reynold looked up at the impassive face of the agent. "Find me Gregory and tell him to meet in my office."

"Right away, sir." The agent walked off briskly and Reynold continued on his way to the elevator. It was time he went back into the field and took charge of the capture of Vincent Keller himself.

Vincent crawled out of the wreckage of the pickup and stared at the inferno of the downed helicopter. Blood blinded him for a moment and he had to wipe his face on his shirt to see again. Pain shot down his leg and he slowly slumped to the ground breathing heavily. Rain pounded down and soaked him in seconds, putting out the small fuel fires around the downed aircraft, but having little effect on the intense heat of the twisted metal consumed by flames. He could smell the avgas mixed with the petrol from his pick up, the road surface glistening like a rainbow in the flickering light of the fire and oncoming traffic.

He pushed himself to get upright, grunting with the effort, bringing forth a flicker of the Beast to help give strength to his legs and arms. He couldn't be found by anyone, least of all helpful good Samaritans who will be on to the police and fire station to attend the accident. The evidence in the pick up was already burning to ashes and he only needed to make his escape. The second helicopter had swung away to the south and out of view, not even bothering to land and determine the fate of its partner, giving Vincent a fair idea of the people he was dealing with. The downing of their agents would make the others even more invested in finding him, and they wouldn't be happy when they did. His life expectancy in their hands would be short and quite possibly painful.

With a hand clamped against his side he edged his way to the back of the overturned pick up and quickly limped away into the darkness, the rain and shadows swallowing him up as if he'd never existed.

As predicted the area was soon surrounded by police, ambulance crews and firemen, as well as curious locals. Old man Hapstead's pickup was a burnt out wreck, the helicopter a smoking ruin. Five bodies lay in black bags at the side of the road. All too soon, a black sedan and van turned up and disgorging several black coated individuals who approached the locals with identities purporting to be from the FBI. Despite local jurisdiction the bodies were put into the black van and taken away before even fingerprints could be taken. An altercation with the medical examiner was short, the argument with the officer in charge even shorter. As soon as they appeared the men in black returned to their vehicle and followed their van from the scene leaving the police with more questions than answers. Now all they had to go on was two burnt out wrecks, no bodies and no witnesses.

Vincent watched it all from half way up the rocky valley wall. The rain had finally eased to a misty drizzle the storm front now raging far to the north, lightning flashes skittering around the heights as it passed on. He shivered and pulled his coat tighter about him. His path now lead due west from Mackay into the folding mountains, deep valleys and gullies. It would take him days to reach the small town of Bellvue in the next habitable valley beyond the range, relying on his innate sense of direction and survival skills to see him through. He also had to escape whatever manhunt Muirfield put together, his enhanced hearing and eyesight his only defense alongside the terrain they would have to cover to find him. He didn't doubt they would come after him, he just had to make sure he was several steps ahead of them to keep out of their clutches.

Turning his back on the scene below he hoisted the small backpack that was the only kit he had to see him through the next few days, higher on his shoulder. He paused a moment to breath deeply, close his eyes and seek the Beast inside, drawing on his supernatural strength to see him through the night.


	18. Part Eighteen

Catherine paused at table number three and refreshed their coffee, receiving a pat on her bottom for her troubles. Ignoring the overly familiar hand, she whisked out of reach and continued on to the next table.

"Table eight, order up!" the bellow from the kitchen sent her over to collect her customer's meal, her smile for Sam, the short order cook, made him smile back. Janet on the counter rolled her eyes and waited for Catherine to serve her customer and return with the payment before commenting.

"You have that man wrapped round that little finger of yours, you know that, dontcha?"

Catherine shrugged. "Wrapped or not, you know I have a man." She wriggled her left hand, the ring there glinting and easily visible.

"Girl pretty as you could have anyone, why are you wasting you time waiting for a dead beat who isn't even here?" Janet persisted. "It's not like anyone has seen hide nor hair of him since you arrived."

"True, But that's because he's across state and won't be back for a little while. He's working too." Catherine told her, giving as little information as possible. Janet was a snoop, and a very good snoop. If there was anything interesting to know about anyone, Janet was the one to ask. She was also the namesake and owner of the eatery, being the one responsible for giving Catherine a job and somewhere to live. In return Catherine worked long hours and earned enough in tips to keep her and Bella fed and housed. It meant she didn't have to dip into her savings, and living so close she didn't have to worry about running up bills constantly fixing the pick up. That was parked out back, but no good to anyone with a munted transmission and bald tires.

It had literally broken down outside the small diner, aptly named 'Janet's Place'. The honking of horns had alerted the people inside to the ruckus of the truck blocking traffic, but when it became clear there was a woman and baby involved, even the patrons pitched in to push the broken down vehicle down a side alley and round the back of the shop.

When Catherine had tried to thank Janet and the others, she had come under scrutiny.

"Do you have anywhere to stay?" she was asked.

"Er...no. I only arrived today," Catherine replied, Bella starting to wail as her feeding time was long overdue. "Can I sit in your diner and feed my baby?"

Janet continued to look at her, taking in the tired lines etched around Catherine's eyes, the lack lustre red hair that only made Catherine's skin look paler than usual. "You look like hell. Where are you from?"

"Er...Twin Falls, Idaho. Do you know it?"

"Never heard of it. Strange, when I'd swear that was a New York accent." One of Janet's over plucked eyebrows arched up her forehead, her eyes not missing a thing. Catherine drooped.

"We'll be on our way, thank you for helping with the truck, I'll arrange to have it towed..."

"Now where do you think you're going?" Janet shot out a hand to stop Catherine leaving. "You're on your last legs, and this noisy bundle is demanding a feed. There's a lounge upstairs where you can feed him..."  
"Her." Catherine corrected her.

"Okay, her in peace. I'm Janet, and I own this place. Go feed your baby, then we'll talk."

Catherine was too grateful to argue and followed Janet up the stairs and into an airy, spacious apartment above the diner. Janet was as good as her word and left her guests alone, Catherine happy to sit in the comfortably armchair and feed Bella, the noise of the busy road below like an old friend or favourite recording.

When Janet stumped up the stairs again Bella was asleep and Catherine was standing, framed by the wide windows, staring out at the view, lost in thoughts. Her short red hair was one of Karen's wigs, the colour doing nothing for her complexion, but it served a purpose, even if it was itchy as hell. Hearing her rescuer arrived, Catherine turned to face her.

"Thank you for letting us stay, but we' have to go now."

"What's the rush," Janet retorted, flopping down into one of the armchairs and kicking off her sensible shoes. "I'm done for the day and you look done in!" she snorted and let out a bark of laughter at her own joke, Catherine regarding her strangely. The woman was unusual in so many ways. She appeared to be middle aged, of middling stature and tending towards plumpness. Her hair didn't show a strand of grey and her make up was expertly applied, despite the thin eyebrows. Her uniform was standard issue complete with name badge and a missing button, but her shoes were expensive, and her hands sported a french manicure. Janet was an odd mixture, the diner below clean and airy, but hardly in the latest style or fitted out with expensive taste, and yet the apartment above boasted not only expensive taste but also some very expensive fixtures and fittings.

"This is your apartment?"Catherine asked, perching opposite the woman on the edge of another chair.

"One of my apartments. You see, I like to speculate. I have several businesses and other interests scattered around Portland, and I consider myself a shrewd judge of people." Janet let out a bray of laughter again. "You could say it's my stock in trade, running a diner as I do."

"You've been very kind..."Catherine started to say only to be cut off.

"What's your name?" Janet asked, casting a long look at Catherine's face and hair.

"Um...Catherine."

"Well, Catherine, do you need a job?" Janet asked, waggling her stockinged feet.

"I do, but first I need somewhere to live. Do you know anywhere going for rent?"

"I may do. What will you do with the baby?" Janet asked. "While you're working, I mean."

Catherine glanced over at Bella, her face softening at the sight of her little girl fast asleep. "I hadn't quite figured that bit out, but I suppose I'll have to put her into daycare, or hire a babysitter, always supposing I can get work."

"It's a tough town, unemployment is running high, jobs are scarce, I don't fancy your chances, having a baby and all. What did you do before?" Janet asked, suddenly not looking as tired as she purported to be.

"Um...well, I've done lots of things. Waitressing, bar tending, community work..."

"I need a waitress for the diner downstairs. Interested in the job?"

Catherine paused before answering. Certainly it appeared a gift to be offered work, but something seemed off and she couldn't ignore her gut. "Why are you doing this? You don't know me, never met me before today, and yet you're being..."  
"Generous?" Janet finished for her. "I imagine I am by a good many people's standards, but I think I'm just a good business woman who knows when someone is needing help. Someone helped me once when I was at the bottom of the heap. Now I'm at the top, or as near as I want to be, so I indulge my philanthropy on occasion, and today you're the lucky recipient."

Catherine stared at the woman, not at all sure whether to take her words at face value, or be concerned for the woman's sanity. "I can't give you references, and when my...my husband returns, I'll probably have to leave in a hurry."

"Not the most glowing recommendation I've heard, but if you want the job, it's yours. You've said you used to do waitressing, so brush up on your smile, be prepared to dodge the occasional wandering hand and you can keep all your tips. Hours are long, but there's a single bedroom that you can stay in for the time being, or until you fix that heap out back. What do you say?"

Catherine, folded her hands together to stop them shaking and pinned a smile to her face. "I say I'll take it, and thank you."

Janet heaved herself out of the chair and bent to pick up her shoes. "Don't thank me yet, you haven't had to fend off Grabby Gavin, one of my most loyal and most annoying customers. I'll show you the room, and you can move yourself in. I tend to use this as a place to take a break, but at night it will be all yours. There's an alarm system, and the diner is locked up at after eleven, so it'll be quiet until the breakfast rush."

Catherine tried to find words to thank her benefactor but Janet waved her to shut up. "You need a job, I need a competent waitress. The last one was a silly twit who couldn't count to save her life. Some people you can help, other's are just not worth the trouble." Janet moved to the doorway, still without putting her shoes back on. "Follow me and bring the little one. I might even know someone who can sit with her...what's her name?"

"Bella."

"Who can sit with Bella while you work. Then you can pop up and feed her when you need to, easy as pie."  
"Janet?"

"Yes?"

Catherine met Janet's curious gaze and shrugged, helpless in the face of the force that was Janet Vandinberg-Hydewhite.

"Quite," Janet replied, a smile lighting up her face and quite transforming her.

Catherine kicked off her shoes and gratefully sank into one of the armchairs upstairs. It was dark outside, the nights drawing in and now distinctly cold. Drizzle, apparently a constant for Portland, made the streets glisten and the stars invisible, but Catherine was less focused on what was happening outside, her ears picking up the sound of her baby chortling and laughing. Pushing away the tiredness she padded barefoot along the corridor to the small bathroom and leaned against the door jamb. Inside, Bella was having a bath. She was kicking her plump arms and legs and waving her hands and feet, enjoying having warm water trickled over her by the person kneeling by the bath. They looked up and saw Catherine standing in the doorway.

"Look, Bella, it's mama come to see you."

"Hey, Marita, that looks like fun." Catherine smiled warmly at the tiny woman kneeling beside the bath. Bella wasn't in the bath itself, that being too big, but laying in a large plastic baby bath, supported by a foam lining. The baby bath itself was designed to sit across the tub held up by the edges, making it easy to lift the baby in and out without having to bend down too far.

"We are having fun, aren't we, Bella. You come and take my place, mama, and I'll go fix you something to eat."

"Really, you don't have to..." But Marita was already gone, leaving Catherine to play with her beautiful baby and dream of the day Vincent would be there to enjoy his child too.

Marita had appeared the day after Catherine and Bella arrived at Janet's Place. Catherine had answered the knock on the door and found a tiny woman staring up at her. Marita explained that Janet has sent for her to help with the baby, and that Catherina, as Marita called her, was not to worry about a thing, everything would be taken care of. Catherine stood back to let the woman enter the apartment.

"Um...Marita?"

"Yes, Catherina?"

Catherine recognised the glint in the woman's keen eyes and gave a small laugh. Marita was a kindred spirit to Janet and not likely to be argued with easily. Catherine paused for a moment to wonder where the fiercely independent Catherine Chandler had disappeared to, where the former police detective who let very few people close had absconded to.

"Nothing. Would you like to meet Bella?"

Marita proved to be not only an excellent nanny to Bella, but an excellent housekeeper to Catherine, as well as someone to lean on in Vincent's absence. Catherine couldn't hazard Marita's age, but as she often talked about various grandchildren, it was assumed the woman was getting on in years, although her neat appearance, dark hair without a hint of grey, and her boundless energy refuted that frequently.

Returning to a profession she hadn't done in a decade had been hard and demanding, but it helped Catherine deal with her heartache and made the time pass quickly. It was only at night, when Marita was gone and Bella having a nap, that time seemed to catch up with her and she found herself standing at the window, heedless of the chill seeping through the glass, staring at the view without seeing it and wishing, with all her soul, that Vincent was there beside her, his arms strong and secure around her.

She couldn't begin to imagine how he was going to find them again, their only real plan being for her to get as far away as possible and hide in a big population center and once there maintain a low profile. In other words disappear off the radar completely. She had to trust that Vincent would find a way, and that one day they would be together again. In the meantime she was doing her best to become invisible.

For all intents and purposes she had done all of that and more. Janet's place, the diner and apartment, were off the beaten track, although no less popular for that. Karen's wig went a long way to disguising her, as well as the careful application of cosmetics to alter the contours of her face, the shape of her eyes and even her mouth. She dressed in loose fitting clothes to make herself seem larger , and wore flats to make herself shorter. On the whole she was doing, wearing and making her choices in direct contrast to what her former self would have chosen. The jewellery was brighter and bigger, the make up more obvious and more heavily applied, the clothes shapeless and less form fitting. She was even working on losing her pronounced New York accent in favour of the softer Oregon drawl. In all she was becoming another person in looks and speech, her only defense against the forces ranged against her. Only at night, once the wig was discarded and the make up washed off, did Catherine Chandler, mother to a healthy, beautiful child and lover of a complicated man, appear as herself.

That Catherine wept in the night for the man not sleeping beside her. Their brief taste of normal now tormented her, visions of Vincent injured or dead, or worse – recaptured by Muirfield and made to suffer for escaping swam through her dreams, leaving her heavy eyed and listless in the morning. During the day, in her persona of Catherine Austin, hidden behind fake hair and make-up she buried those hurts and heartache, willing the day to pass quickly so she could return to her child and smell her delicious baby scent and forget her troubles for a few precious moments.

It was the end of another day, only a half hour from closing and Catherine sat in the furthest booth from the entrance to the diner, her head down as she flicked through a glossy magazine left behind by a customer. Janet was behind the counter cleaning up, while Sam and Seamus were starting to shut down the kitchen for the night. Soon she would be free to go upstairs and become simply Bella's mother, her breasts already aching to be relieved of their burden of milk again. The door crashed open and two men entered the diner. Catherine looked up and instantly stiffened. These weren't customers, they were trouble dressed in denim and puffer jackets. All of Catherine's police senses were screaming for her to act first, but even as she reached for her gun, she had to check herself and remember she didn't have one anymore, or a badge or anything.

The two men looked around at the dated décor, the few staff and shared a grin before sitting at the stool in front of the counter. Janet moved along the counter and placed a napkin and a glass of water in front of each of them.

"What will it be, the kitchen is closing but we can make something simple." Janet turned to reach for the coffee pot. "Coffee?"

"How about you open the till and give us your takings, old woman." The older of the two held up a gun and pointed it at Janet, the other man taking the coffee pot from her and pouring himself a cup full.

"Whatever you say, you're the boss." Janet answered, moving away towards the till. Catherine sat unmoving and silent, willing the men to be satisfied with the money and leave, but her wishes weren't granted. The younger partner in crime had spotted Catherine and leered at her.

"Looks like we have company. Why don't you come and join the party, sweet thing?"

Catherine shook her head and stayed right where she was. Janet quickly finished stuffing notes into a paper bag and threw them at the one with the gun.  
"Take it, and get out of here," Janet spat.

The man looked into the bag and smiled. "That's not a bad start, where's the rest of it?"

"That's all we've got. It gets picked up every day. There's no safe here."

The younger punk downed the last of his coffee and picked up a fresh cup and the pot and swaggered across the diner towards Catherine.

"How about I act the help and pour for you?" he plonked the cup on the table in front of Catherine and poured coffee into the cup, slopping some across the table. "Oops!"

Catherine got out of her chair and stood, the coffee trickled off the edge of the table and dripping on the floor. The young punk started to crowd her, forcing her towards the swing door to the kitchen. As if on cue the swing door opened and Sam appeared, backed up by Seamus. Both cooks were unarmed, but it was enough to make the robber check and back away, his hand going to the small of his back and pulling out a pistol to threaten Sam and Seamus.

"Back off, bitches," the robber shouted, holding the gun sideways. For a moment Catherine was forgotten, her instincts kicking in. She kicked out and caught the young man completely unaware, her follow up punch sending the gun flying across the floor and the punk clutching his face.

"Fuck you, bitch, you broke my fuckin' nose!" Staggering back he headed for his partner, the older man walking backwards towards the door.

"Get your fuck'n ass over here and let's go!" The older robber waved the gun from side to side, covering the occupants of the diner. As the door swung closed behind them he let off a shot that smashed the glass Coke mirror behind the counter. Every one ducked, Janet clapping her hands over her ears and screaming with shock.

Catherine sat down on the nearest chair and dropped her head in her hands. She stared at the floor, noting the droplets of blood from the robbers busted nose that created a trail to the diner's doorway, her mind already processing the scene as if she was still a detective. Dimly she heard Seamus trying to comfort Janet, the woman indulging in a brief bout of hysterics while Sam called the police. Sirens roused her from her stupor and she had a moment of panic, then calmed herself. She would simply give a statement about what happened, and that would be the end of it. She was a nobody, a waitress working for minimum wage in a diner that had just been robbed. It was normal, sort of. She just had to keep her head and not panic. She was a victim, not a suspect.

Just as she knew she would, she was interviewed about the sequence of events, glossing over her part in it, despite the others making out that she was a heroine. When asked why she'd attacked the robber she passed it off a having watched too many cop shows on television and wanting to practise her self defense moves from night classes. She watched as the officers tagged and bagged the gun, took swabs of the blood trail and took away security camera footage to be examined. Before they left, the female officer took Catherine aside and lectured her on how foolish she'd been to put herself at risk unnecessarily, that she'd been lucky this time. Catherine listened and nodded and just wished the officer and her partner gone so she could escape upstairs and relieve the ache in her breasts. Soon after she slipped away and raced up the stairs, meeting Marita at the top clutching a screaming baby hungry for its feed. She ripped open her blouse and quickly sat down, latching the baby on in record time and almost sighing in relief to suckle her. Marita suddenly gasped and pinched a bit of Catherine's uniform between her fingers.

"There is blood on you!"

Catherine looked down and realised there was quite a bit of blood spray covering her blouse. Without explaining to Marita, she shrugged it off and let it drop to the ground. Marita gave her a look then left the room, the clatter of her shoes on the stair ignored by Catherine who gave her entire focus to her baby in a vain effort to forget the incident downstairs. So wrapped up in Bella, she didn't hear Janet arrived, or hear her talking to Marita, the two older women sharing a stiff drink together while they waited for Catherine to finish feeding Bella. At last the baby was full and content, dozing on her mothers shoulder while Catherine finally awoke to the fact that her employer and nanny were both giving her funny looks.

"What?" she asked, carrying Bella out of the lounge and into the bedroom to settle her in the Moses basket. Effecting a quick change into a sweatshirt and loose pants, she padded back into the lounge to face her audience. Janet and Marita hadn't moved, their wide dark eyes still questioning her.

"What the hell was that?" Janet finally asked.

"What?" Catherine repeated, slumping down into the armchair feeling incredibly weary.

"That kick punch thing you did. That was no self-defense move, that was...something else."

"It's like I told the officer...I watch too many cop shows and thought I could, I don't know, do something." Catherine tried to excuse her actions. Janet and Marita exchanged a glance, then Marita shrugged and downed the contents of her glass.

"I'll see you both tomorrow. Try and get some sleep, Caterina, you look tired, and a tired mama is no good for her baby."

"Goodnight, Marita, and thank you for staying later than usual."

Janet waited for the older woman to leave, then padded over and plonked herself next to Catherine.

"That was a brave thing you did tonight. You didn't have to, I was not worried about losing the takings, but it was a brave and foolish thing. The police will have a better chance of catching those two hoodlums, especially as I'm pretty sure you broke that punk's nose good."

"I wasn't brave, Janet...I just didn't like the way he was waving that damn gun about. He couldn't even hold it properly. Obviously watches too many music videos. He'd more likely shoot himself with it held like that, than anyone else." Catherine tried to make light of her involvement but Janet wasn't fooled for a second.

"I haven't asked questions, because it's obvious to anyone that you're on the run. Did you husband beat you? Did he hurt Bella? Is that why you wear that ridiculous wig and too much make up?"

Catherine looked at her employer in shock. First Karen at the trailer park, now this woman. Both had seen through their charade, were they really so bad at being normal?

"Vincent has never touched me, not in that way..." she retorted, blushing with a mixture of embarrassment and guilt. "We love each other, but we can't be together right now. That's why he's not here. He wants to be, but he can't."

Janet nodded. "So you wait for him and eat your heart out. I understand. It just makes what you did down in the diner even more extraordinary. You put yourself at great risk, Catherine."

Her waitress smiled weakly, the eye liner starting to run as tears tracked down her cheek.

"Would you wait here a minute, Janet?"

"Sure." Janet replied, not moving when Catherine rose to her feet and walked out of the room.

A few minutes later a stranger walked back in. The red wig was gone and all the make up revealing an exotic looking woman with pale, flawless skin, and dark, straight silky hair hanging to her shoulders.

Janet stared for a moment then gave a grunt of satisfaction. "Well hello, Catherine."

"Hello, Janet."

Janet patted the cushion beside her. "Why don't you sit down and tell me all about it?"

Catherine hesitated, but she had been strong and brave and fearless for so long, it only took one sympathetic show of compassion to bring her close to breaking."

"You see, I'm in love with the most complicated man imaginable..."


	19. Part Nineteen

That complicated man was breathing heavily and crouched under a rock overhang, his face streaked with dirt and sweat. His original plan to cross the range and escape out the next inhabited valley had been shot to pieces in the first few days. Whatever orders might have been given about his capture, the agents of his enemy were out to terminate him. For four days and nights he'd been hunted and hounded, only his enhanced senses, night vision and strength keeping him one step ahead of the hunters. He was nearing exhaustion, always hungry and his body craving relief from the constant falls, knocks and bruising. It was becoming harder and harder to call on the Beast, his over all weakness inhibiting his ability to transform. Only in moments of extreme peril, his life on the line, was he able to dredge up sufficient adrenaline to give him a brief burst of Beastly power, his reserves running dangerously low. At his lowest it was only the image of Catherine and Bella waiting for him that kept him going, made him push though the pain and hunger. It ever Muirfield wanting a test of his levels of endurance, they were getting one now.

The clatter of rock on rock announced the arrival of someone, or something onto the scree slope, the mini avalanche of shale cascading down the hillside and working better than any alarm to the presence of his enemies. He had thought he was further ahead of them, but he'd been wrong before. He hunkered back against the rock wall, his shelter only a shallow cave, but in the depth of the shadows and with the weather maintaining a dark and overcast sky, it was enough to hide him from all but the most direct search. Whoever was moving over the slope was coming closer, Vincent hearing the man's labored breathing as he negotiated the tricky ground, slithering and cursing while the rocks moved and slid under his boots. Vincent listened carefully but could hear only the one man on the slope or anywhere near him. It seemed his enemy today was narrowed down to just one. Vincent allowed himself a small grin of satisfaction. It was time to get his own back on the those pursuing him. The agent was level with where he was hiding, the man carrying a sniper rifle, substantial back pack and sporting an assortment of equipment, all of which would be very useful to Vincent.

He waited for the man to go past, amused at the colourful swear words falling from the man's mouth, learning a few new ones before he made his move, emerging from the tiny cave like a panther uncoiling from its lair, the allusion further enhanced by his flickering golden eyes and black hair. He had a distinct advantage not only of surprise but also having nothing to slow him down, his pounce landing him on the man's back and forcing him face first on to the rocks. Recovering quickly,the agent spun on to his back, but Vincent was ready and snatched the gun, knocking out of his grasp. The agent pulled a knife and released the straps holding his pack so it fell away, freeing him to fight. Now they were even. Now it was a fight to the death. Vincent knew he only had a few minutes of the Beast to call on, his fatigue making him vulnerable, but it was enough, a feint made the agent lunge forward, losing his footing among the loose rocks, his recovery not fast enough up against Vincent's speed, his head snapping back with the force of Vincent's blow, dropping him to the ground where a quick twist of his neck ended his life and saved Vincent's. Within moments the body was stripped of everything down to his underwear and boots, and his killer was off and running. Vincent didn't pause to crow over his success, he needed to find shelter where he could sort through the agents supplies and at the same time recoup his strength and maybe get some sleep.

The scree slope ended and he jogged through a field of giant sized boulders, the gloom deepening as night descended, the shadows getting colder and darker by the second. He headed for a cluster of rocks that formed a natural cairn, probably a remnant of rocks dropped when glaciers retreated from the mountains. Whatever they were they were a possible shelter, Vincent squeezing himself through a narrow gap to find a space between them that offered the most secure hiding place he'd found in days. At the limit of his strength he slumped to the ground and just stopped moving, his own battered pack used as an impromptu pillow. While he lay there he listened for any sign of pursuit or anything to indicate anyone was within the range of his hearing. He knew by now the difference between the noises the mountains made, and the sounds a man made. Rocky hillsides were surprisingly noisy at night, groaning and cracking, chipping and knocking as boulders loosened and fell, rock sheets cracked in the cold nights and pebbles rolled down slopes. All of that was now familiar to him and easy to determine. It was the more regular and repeated sounds he had to listen for, and his sense of smell was his second best defense. Like any animal he regularly tested the air, sifting the gusts and breezes for hints of anything not natural or out of the ordinary. His enemies biggest mistake was to use cologne infused grooming products, their distinct aroma a dead giveaway in the crisp mountain air, the smells carried long distances and alerting animal and human, albeit no ordinary human, to their presence and location. It was the biggest advantage he had, that none of the agents appeared to be special forces trained, an oversight he was glad of. It had kept him ahead of the hunt, even if only by a few feet, but it was enough.

Now, having satisfied himself that there was nothing to indicate anyone currently stalking this small canyon, he finally allowed himself to relax. A quick rummage in the pack produced an item that made him grin in anticipation of using it. Tonight he would sleep well, and sleep warm, but first he had to eat and regain his strength. There was never an option to start a fire so he ate the rations cold, but they were no worse for that. His stomach filled, he drank from the canteen before wrapping himself luxuriously in the dead agent's thickly padded sleeping bag and settled himself to rest for a few precious hours.

By the time the sun rose the next day, Vincent was already a mile away from the rocky shelter. He'd also left behind the larger back pack, quite sure that it would be found sooner or later given the hidden locator in the lining. He did take all the food, the sleeping bag, wet weather gear, and all the weapons which included the rifle, knife and a few other items he'd been surprised to find stashed in the clothes of the dead agent. His former plan had been scrapped in the night, a new plan taking shape as he walked. He had known that Muirfield were trying to herd him to a particular place, but he wasn't going to play that game any more. Instead he would circle around and get behind the beaters and head back towards Arco. They wouldn't expect him to do that, hell, even he didn't expect to do that, which was why it made sense to do exactly that. He couldn't survive much longer if he strayed further into the warren of the range, so it was only logical to return to what he knew, and he knew the area around Arco better than anyone would expect him too. His night time forays, giving free rein to his inner Beast had led him to discover many interesting features and potentially useful topographical oddities that could hide him, given access to the resources of Arco to supply him as well.

With that in mind he headed in a large circle to bring him south then east of his former route. Twice he had to hide from a search helicopter, making sure he slowed his breathing and lowered his heart rate to make it harder to spot his body heat among the rocks. It was a trick he used when he hunted game, and a way of becoming invisible to even electronic eyes. At one point during the day he saw a rescue flare arc high into the air. The agents of Muirfield had found the dead body. He stopped briefly to eat the rest of the rations, needing as much food as he could consume to maintain the pace he'd set for himself. Mid afternoon and he found a sheltered over hang that provided a good hiding place where he could sleep for a few hours before resuming his trek in darkness. Buried deep in the sleeping back he shut out the world and dreamed of Catherine, imagined her curled around him, her scent lingering long after he awoke to a darkened world and bright stars overhead. The faintest glimmer of a glorious sunset gave him a bearing, and he quickly covered ground, his breath misting the air as he tramped. As he climbed higher he paused to look back, seeing pin points of light far behind him indicating how far away the agents were, still pursuing Vincent's original course into the mountains. Turning to face away he could make out a distant glow of towns dotting the vast expanse of the Snake River plain to the south, the mountain in front of him the last barrier before he started the long trek back to Arco. The map taken from the dead agent told him that he was climbing to the peak of Timbered Dome, which overlooked the Antelope Valley airport to the north, currently being used by Muirfield as their base of operations for resupply and refueling. The area was desolate and only the peak had any cover. Once at the summit he watched several take-off's, the helicopter with it's powerful search light heading away from his position into the deep gullies and washes about Miller Peak to the north west and beyond, even the headlights of several ATV's using the tracks crisscrossing the far peaks visible on that clear night. It seemed that Muirfield had thrown a lot of resources at tracking him down. He almost felt flattered. Turning his back on it all he kept the Craters of the moon on his right shoulder and trekked steadily, the thin stream of cars passing along on route ninety three like bright dots on a thread of black far below.

He finally reached the foothills as dawn broke over the mountain range behind him. He was now among the giant circles of crops planted on the plains of the Big Lost river valley , a verdant green after the dust and rocks he's been traveling over. He was also more exposed, the few stands of trees too spindly to provide much cover. Dirt roads skirted the huge circles of cultivation, dwarfing him in a landscape that already reduced a man and his machines to a grain of sand. He didn't like moving in daylight but he was running out of time. Soon Muirfield and its agents would figure out that he was no longer ahead of them, and equipped as he was with the dead man's gear, they would be back on his trail and hunting him down. His choices were shrinking and he had to put more distance between him and his enemies. To do that he needed transport.

The bullet, fired from the extreme of its range, had lost a great deal of its impetus but still had enough to shatter bone. Vincent fell, his leg giving out beneath him pitching him onto the dirt road. Blood quickly soaked his jeans and he clutched at his thigh to stem the flow. He worked quickly to create a tourniquet from his belt and tightened it until the blood stopped. Gritting his teeth he dragged himself off the road and rolled into the shallow ditch running alongside. Panting he peered in the direction of the shot. He'd heard nothing which confirmed it was from a long range sniper, invisible even to his keen eyesight, lost amongst the heights of the hill behind him. Cursing under his breath he released the belt to inspect the damage. Despite the distance and loss of velocity the bullet had managed to lodge itself just above his left knee. With no exit wound it was still in there. Blood still trickled from the neat hole, his pants leg dark with blood the rest of the way down his left leg and into his boots. With nothing to help him but a knife and no way of sterilizing it, he was at a loss to help himself this time. Whoever had shot him had timed it perfectly, stranding him amongst the crops with no one to see or hear. Now all they had to do was call the helicopter to come and pick him up. Tightening the belt once more he lifted his head above the rim of the ditch, but when this provoked no retaliation from the sniper he pulled himself upright and clambered back on to the roadway. He still had a little time and he'd make the most of that. Arco wasn't that far ahead and if he could make it there he had a chance of stealing a vehicle and making good his escape.

His luck held and he limped into the outskirts of Arco before the sound of a helicopter reached him, the clatter magnified by the surrounding hills so it sounded like a whole platoon of aircraft were in pursuit, instead of just one. His second piece of luck was the football game pulling the small population to gather at the highschool, meaning there was no one to see him stagger into the outskirts of town. One person did see him and quickly caught up with him in her battered hatchback.

"Vincent!"

Vincent spun around, prepared to defend himself, the Beast roaring into life, only to be subdued before appearing. "Karen!" His astonishment was only a fraction of hers.

"What are you doing back here?" Her glad expression quickly turned to dismay, taking in his dishevelled appearance and the blood soaked jeans. Vincent swayed, resting one hand on the door and leaving a bloody hand print as he tried to rest his injured leg.

"Trying to stay alive." He bit out, pain radiating out from his thigh to encompass his whole body.

"Shit. Get in the before you fall over." Karen watched him limp around the front of her car and climb painfully into the passenger seat.

"Sorry, but I'm messing up your upholstery," Vincent gasped, trying to ease his leg and loosening the tourniquet briefly.

"Fuck the upholstery, you look like hell. Don't pass out on me, Vincent, I won't be able to carry you into my trailer if you do."

"I'll do...my...best...Christ, don't they ever fill the potholes around here?"

The car bounced again and Vincent saw black spots in his vision. "Karen?"

"Yeah."

"Hurry..."

They reached the trailer park and Karen positioned the car right by the steps up to her door, getting out and unlocking it before helping Vincent inside. He was grey faced and panting by the time Karen maneuvered him onto her bed, despite his protests about the dirt. She left him briefly to re-park the Toyota and clean off the evidence of Vincent's hand prints and blood. A quick glance around the trailer park reassured her that no one would have seen anything to report to the authorities. Vincent was struggling to take off his pack, remove his boots and look at the wound all at the same time.

"Here, let me help you. God, but you're a mess." Karen dumped the pack on the floor alongside the expensive looking sniper rifle and quickly removed his boots, her nose wrinkling at the pungent smell of his socks. "Jeez, you're ripe!"

Vincent smiled weakly. "Sorry about that, no showers up there in the mountains."

Karen grabbed her scissors from the bedside table and sliced his jeans off, the blood already soaking into her bed covers. She loosened the belt and pulled it off, blood only seeping from the wound now. Vincent lay back and let her work, exhausted from his painful trek into town. He was surprised his normal quick healing capacity has deserted him, putting it down to his fatigue and the possibility that even his enhanced abilities couldn't mend shattered bone as easily as torn flesh. Karen continued to work on him, his jeans, socks, boots and underwear discarded on the floor, a towel affording some modesty as she washed his thigh to see the bullet wound better.

Karen looked up, surprised to have so little reaction to her poking and prodding around what would have been a very painful injury, only to find Vincent had passed out, his shaggy head deep in her frilly pillows, eyes closed, a pulse clearly visible at the base of his throat.

"What the hell have you been doing to yourself?" she asked, rhetorically.

It had been ten days since she'd said goodbye to them. The excitement that followed had kept everyone talking for days afterwards. The police had been all over the trailer park, searching every one's homes, but their quarry was long gone and no one had any useful information to impart. The only one that did was keeping her information to herself, cheerfully lying her ass off to anyone foolish to ask her anything about the man laying dead in Vincent and Catherine's trailer, or Kel and Rina's trailer as she reminded herself they called themselves. After the police came the men in black, a hard faced agent of whatever forces were hunting the young family, flashing an FBI badge and pushing his nose into everybody's business and being thoroughly obnoxious to boot. He went away with the same work of fiction she'd given the police, leaving him no wiser or one iota better informed about his fugitives whereabouts.

She only had one moment when she feared for the young couple and their adorable baby. Three days after their escape the agents were back but they had someone with them who acted very strangely. He was a young man, well built with the grace of a big cat, but he still moved strangely and she watched him literally sniff the air like a dog scenting a rabbit. The agents took him over to the abandoned crime scene and tore the police tape off to let the strange young man enter. He appeared a few moments later and looked directly towards Karen's trailer, meeting her eyes for a moment. For a mature woman who had seen her share of scary and unexplainable things in her time, she was scared witless by the stranger because for a few seconds she saw his eyes glow an unearthly, inhuman yellow. A couple of minutes later the agents were banging on her door and she really didn't want to open it. She did eventually and faced them down, the young man remaining in the background, his eyes now appearing a normal blue when she looked at him.

She explained again how she'd taken in Rina when she fainted at the barbeque, but that was all. Despite her shaken nerves, she maintained enough sangfroid to satisfy them, the agents leaving and taking their strange companion with them. She watched them walk away but was then subjected to a piercing appraisal when the young man turned and met her stare, a flicker of yellow appearing briefly before he turned away. Karen slammed her door shut and shook for a few moments until her fear passed. A quick shot of bourbon dispelled the last of her fit of nerves and she laughed it off as an impossibility. She lied. She knew that she hadn't been seeing things, and she also knew she'd seen those inhuman yellow eyes before.

Karen sat in a chair and stared out of the window. A helicopter clattered past overhead and she leant over to peer out the window. There had been activity all afternoon but so far nothing and nobody had approached her trailer to demand a search.

Vincent was still out for the count, aided by an injection of Midazolam Karen had used to make sure he didn't wake while she cleaned the wound. It had taken some time to pick out the bits of shrapnel, scraps of cloth from the jeans, and the bullet itself, which had become lodge in the femur. She had worked slowly but thoroughly before stitching up the wound and bandaging it. Vincent hadn't twitched even when she washed him all over, trimmed his mountain-man beard and gave him a haircut. At one stage she paused in her ministrations to run a curious finger down the scar marring his right cheek, wondering to herself how he'd got it. It looked like a knife wound, long healed, but she was surprised it hadn't had better after care to reduce the scarring. Not that it detracted from Vincent's looks at all, if anything it gave him a piratical appearance that was very appealing. Satisfied that he was a good as she could get him, she removed the bloodied bed linen and remade the bed around her patient and left him to heal. She had tutted over his physical state, noting the lack of fat and more pronounced bones since she'd last seen him. Not that she would have ever have called Vincent anything other than lean, he'd still lost some weight if not muscles, everything more defined and honed, like a sleek tiger.

That made her smile. It had been many years since she'd had a man in her bed, let alone one that she would liken to anything close to a tiger.

The sound of cars made her glance out of the window again, noting the return of several trailer park residents. The game must be over. Checking her clock, she started to prepare a meal, putting in more ingredients than usual to cater for her unexpected guest. If she knew anything about young men, they always had a bottomless appetite for home cooking, and Vincent appeared to be in need in a great deal of home cooking to bulk up again.

Some one knocked on her door and she went to answer it. It was her neighbour, Sherry.

"You missed a great game, Karen. What happened to you, I thought you were coming straight back?"

"Sorry about that. I decided to give it a miss and catch up on some stuff. You know I've been busy at the hospital, and things start getting behind."

Sherry laughed. "Yeah, know that for sure. I keep putting off chucking out Bill's old stuff that's cluttering up the place. Reckon it'll keep for another day. See you later for a drink?"

"Sure. You can tell me how the game went."

"Okay. Bye." Sherry waved and sauntered off, hips swinging.

Karen shut the door and returned to the small kitchen, stirring the pot and adding some more seasoning. The angry beat of a helicopter passing over again briefly interrupted her musing.

"Keep looking, you bastards, you won't get your hands on him, not on my watch!" To add emphasis to her vow she shook her fist at the ceiling, then laughed at herself. "Silly old woman."

On the fringes of town a car load of Muirfield agents were stopped in the middle of the road.

"The trail ends here. Someone picked him up." One reported, crouched in the dust, his fingers tracing over the tracks of a tire, a dark line of blood spots visible leading up to it.

"He's here and some one is hiding him."

"Or maybe they took him to the hospital." Another agent added.

"Unlikely, but go check it out. I'll look around here for any other signs."

The men separated, half into the car to go to the hospital, the others taking either side of the dirt road to check the edges for any evidence of their quarry. Darkness was already creeping over the mountains and lights going on in houses. If they had their way they'd be knocking on doors and doing a house to house search. Unfortunately that wasn't an option as they had no official right to do anything more than ordinary citizens. If they caused too much of a fuss the police might decide to dig a little deeper and end up discovering that all their accreditation was as false as their smiles. Then the shit would really hit the fan.

"Dammit, he's hiding here somewhere. We know he's wounded so he can't get far."

"He could have been driven out of town." His partner suggested.

"But no ordinary Joe would do that, unless he threatened them. And Keller isn't the type to put anyone at risk."

"He might. He's wounded and on the run. A man will do anything in those circumstances."

"Shut up with your psycho babble and keep looking."


	20. Part Twenty

Vincent awoke to darkness and momentarily panicked, sweat beading his forehead and his eyes glowing a deep gold, his body convulsing off the bed with long nails digging into the bed clothes as he tried to throw himself sideways, hampered by the thick bandaging around his thigh.

"Vincent, it's alright, you're safe..." Karen's voice penetrated his fear and he subsided, gasping.

"How long..."

"Not long, a few hours. You're running a fever, Vincent. Here, drink this..." She held a glass to his lips and he drank thirstily.

"I don't understand, I should be fine...I should be fine."

"You took a bullet in the leg, it logged in the femur, Vincent. You're dehydrated and malnourished. It's no wonder your body is not bouncing back. You just need to rest and get better." Karen smoothed back the hair from his face, the strands soaked with sweat.

"What did you give me?" Vincent asked, wrapping a hand around her wrist, his eyes intent on her face.

"A solution of Midazolam. You had passed out, and I need to attend to getting the bullet removed. I thought it would help if you didn't wake up in the middle of that."

Vincent let her go and flopped back on the pillows. "Sorry, I don't react well to sedatives, they give me nightmares."

"A lot of people have that reaction, don't apologise." Karen sat back down on the side of the bed. "Now you're awake, how about having something to eat. I've made stew, and there's coffee brewing. I have to go out for a bit, but I'll be back shortly. Make yourself at home, but don't have a shower yet, I already gave you a bed bath, and I want to keep that wound dry for now. Try not to move about too much on that leg, please?"

Vincent nodded. "Clothes?"

Karen nodded to the chair. "Easy to get on, loose and comfortable. I'll be back in a tick with your meal."

"Karen..." Vincent waited for her to return to his bedside. He reached up and grasped her hand. "I'm sorry I got you mixed up with all this. They will know I'm injured and that someone is hiding me. Be careful. The people hunting me don't care who gets in the way."

"Just eat and rest, Vincent. I'll be back soon, and probably with news of where and how many. Sherry is the source of all knowledge when it comes to what's happening in Arco." Karen patted his hand and rose to go and get his food.

Vincent lay back for a moment to allow his head to stop spinning. He could feel tremors chase up and down his body, sweat trickling down his face, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried to diagnose himself but gave us, deciding to go with Karen's prognosis that he was suffering from fatigue, lack of food and the after effects of being shot. It seemed a fair assessment of his symptoms.

Karen returned with a tray and set it down on the bedside table. "Now go easy and don't do too much too soon, alright. I know young men, and they never want to stay in bed for long." She checked and gave him a wry smile. "At least not when there's nobody to keep them company in it."

Karen could feel herself blushing and quickly turned to leave. "I'll be back before you miss me."

And she was gone, the fly screen banging shut behind her.

The smell of the stew was intoxicating and Vincent heaved himself upright, wincing when his leg complained at the movement. He consumed the contents of the bowl along with the bread given to mop up the gravy. Momentarily satisfied, he slowly made his way out of the bed, keeping his weight off the injured limb, to where the clothes were draped over the chair. He was about to sit down and pull on the pants when someone banged repeated on Karen's door. Vincent froze, the Beast inside sluggishly coming awake as whoever it was rapped on the door again and called her name. Knowing that Karen hadn't locked her door, Vincent moved to conceal himself behind the bedroom door. There were precious few places for him to hide, and even less given he didn't have a stitch on.

"Karen? You in there?" a female called, and Vincent relaxed a little. He listened and the woman outside talked briefly with a companion. "She must have gone to Sherry's already."

They left, still talking, and Vincent hopped out from behind the door. He was shaking and had to sit down heavily on the edge of the bed to collect himself before attempting to put the clothes on again.

If Muirfield found him like this there's be no flight or fight, he felt so diorientated and unwell. In a brief moment of insanity he even thought of giving himself self up just to get it over with, but a glance down at his hand showed the battered gold ring still encircling his finger, reminding him of who was waiting for him to join her, about what this was all for.

Fierce longing burst over him, longing to kiss and touch her, to be able to lay with her, love her dissolve into her in a way that he considered unique to themselves. That was why he was doing all this, to get back to her and their child, to build a life safe from anyone who dared to try and tear them apart. To become the man he wanted to be for the woman he loved above all else, even his own life. Overwhelmed with emotion, The Beast inside suddenly awoke, infusing him with power and energy, his body transforming, his eyes burning a fiery gold, flickering like flames. Blue fired raced along his arms to his finger tips, the tendons in his legs bunching and cording, his shoulders expanding as the muscles swelled and knotted. In the full throes of his transformation, Vincent didn't hear the door open, of the fly screen bang, he was consumed with the stretch and burn of his own body, the rush of air on his skin, the intensity of his enhances senses turned inward, seeking out any weakness as he reached up with his arms and flexed every sinew.

"Oh. My. God!"

The voice behind him made him instantly spin around and drop into a defensive crouch, claws out and teeth bared, a growl of warning hissing from between his lips.

And almost instantly he leashed the Beast and returned to his human form, the sight of Karen's horrified expression like a douse of icy water over him.

Karen watched with shock and something akin to fascination as Vincent returned from appearing to be some sort of feral beast in human guise, back to the young man she'd pulled a bullet out of only hours before.

"Karen...I..." He stopped when she shook her head at him.

"No, I don't think there's anything you can say at this stage, Vincent. In fact, I think I'm just going to pour myself a stiff drink while you put some clothes on. Try not to knock your leg too much."

He watched her leave, his brow creased in worry. Karen was his only resource, and if she refused to help him he was as good a caught by Muirfield. Turning back to the chair he pulled on the pants, his leg giving him barely a twinge of discomfort.

Karen sat in her armchair and downed another bourbon, her hands still shaking from seeing something she would have laughed off as impossible before. She had always thought that her mind had been playing tricks on her, that she couldn't have seen what she thought she saw all those years ago, but now she had the truth of it buck naked and down the hall from her. On one hand she was woman enough to appreciate a finely made male body and also be able to see the human being needing her help, but what she'd witnessed just now bordered on the fantastic. She didn't believe in goblins and werewolves and vampires, despite the current trend in films, television and literature, it was all hogwash and pure fantasy, only now how was she to explain what she'd just seen with her own two eyes. Tipping the glass back she downed the contents and welcomed the burn as it slid down her throat.

"Karen?" Vincents voice drew her attention to him where he stood in the doorway of her lounge.

"What are you? A werewolf?" Karen asked, feeling the effects of shock and two very large Bourbons slur her words. "Or do you prefer Lycanthrope? God, I can't believe I'm even talking about this!" She giggled nervously and babbled on. "I thought they were just silly teen things in those daft Twilight movies but instead I have one sleeping in my bed! Does that make me Grandma or little Red Riding hood?" She looked up at the young man watching her and clapped a hand over her mouth, realising belatedly that she was talking nonsense.

Vincent advanced into the room and perched on the other chair, rubbing his hands together as he tried to come up with the words that would explain some but not all of his condition. He decided to go with the tried and true. "I was part of a group of special forces soldiers who volunteered to be experimented on in Afghanistan. They injected us all with cross-species dna..."

"Why the hell would they do that?" Karen interrupted, sitting forward. "Who the hell does that?"

"They wanted super soldiers to be faster, stronger. It was all done under a military umbrella of scientific research." Vincent told her.

Karen shook her head. "But that's crazy. How long ago did this happen?"

"Roughly ten years ago. The experiment went wrong and they killed most of my platoon. As far as I know I'm the only survivor and they want me back."

Karen dry washed her face with her hands. "You're not the only one, Vincent, but first I have to ask you. Have you, in the past ten years, lived in Kansas City or passed through there?"

"No."

"Then you are definitely not the only survivor. Either that or there's a whole lot more out there that you don't know about."

"Karen, what did you see?"

"What I saw was unbelievable at the time, that anyone could have jumped from that height and walked away, but as a paramedic you see all sorts of strange shit on the job. But this time it was not only the physical that marked this as one to remember. It was the guy's eyes. You're the third person that I've seen in my lifetime that has eyes like that. I have to say, Vincent, that I thought I was seeing things the first time, but now I know that the second time wasn't an aberration either."

"Second time?" Vincent queried. "When was that?"

"Just after you and Catherine left, when they were checking every one out and searching high and low for you. One was here, a young man with glowing yellow eyes. He totally creeped me out." Karen gave a short, nervous laugh. "No offense intended, Vincent."

"Non taken." Vincent replied. "But this means they have a new generation already operational. I have to go. If he's in the area he'll know I'm here and it won't be long before they find me. The one you saw in Kansas might have been one I met up with in New York. He's dead now, but I knew what he was when I was around him, we caused a reaction just by being near and if this one you saw is a new and improved version, he'll be on my trail already."

Karen stood up. "Vincent, he's younger than you and I don't think he has any of your life experience or humanity. The man I saw was a hunter and killer."

"All the more reason they don't find me here, with you. I have to go."

"Then I'd better go with you. I know this...person suspected I knew more than I was saying. He tracked you easily to my trailer the last time, and that was from a distance without following any discernible trail. If I stay they will know I've helped you."

Vincent met her worried gaze with one of his own. "Then they'll kill you. How fast and light can you pack?"


	21. Part TwentyOne

J. checked his mail on his laptop before bringing up the online webmail service he used for only one purpose. Every time he checked it, he hoped against hope that there would be something there, an email to tell him what was happening with his friend, Vincent Keller. It had been months since they'd said their farewells in Minneapolis, even more since any contact had been made. If Muirfield were still keeping tabs on him and Tess Vargas, they must be bored out of their skulls by now, there being nothing and no contact in all the time since then. Tess still came around when she was able, the two of them reminiscing and coming up with all sorts of possibilities of where Catherine and Vincent could be. Their favourite was imagining the pair safe and happy with their child some place warm and sunny, far away but still somewhere accessible. One day, they told each other, we'll get a postcard, or an email inviting us to go visit and we'll find them living the good life, safe from Muirfield and any other danger. It was a lovely fantasy, but they knew it for what it was – make-believe. While Muirfield existed and Vincent was alive, they would always be pursued, only death would make the persecution cease. And that was not an option.

J.T brought up the page and glanced at it, expecting it to be empty as usual. He almost clicked away when he saw the number next to the header for the inbox. Something was waiting there for him. He almost dreaded clicking the link, wondering if maybe this was the email to tell him Vincent was dead, or capture again, or worse they were all dead or captured, his mind refusing to be sensible as he moved the mouse to the button and clicked.

There was no header, as he expected, but there was an attachment. Before opening it he checked the address and frowned, it was from a source he didn't recognise, but otherwise the protocol was right. Double clicking the message he opened it. There was no text just an image.

Tess Vargas arrived in record time, her hand shaking so much she could hardly fit the key in the door, flinging it open at last and staggering inside.

"J.T.?"

"Here..."

She dropped the keys on the kitchen counter and walked rapidly to Catherine's old bedroom. All her friends personal items had been packed away and stored. The room was now J.T's office and he currently sat at the desk with his lap top open. He waved her over and Tess quickly skirted the desk to lean over his shoulder and stare at the image now on display. Tears sprung to her eyes immediately and she pressed a hand to her mouth to capture the sob that rose in her throat.

"Oh, my God." Tess breathed.

Taking up the full screen of the lap top was a photo of Catherine, looking directly at the camera and in her arms a new born baby, a dark tuft of hair escaping the pink knitted hat on its head. The photo had been posed with great care to show nothing of any use to anyone trying to trace where it had been taken. Catherine appeared to glow with the sun behind her, gilding her dark hair but not eclipsing the glow of motherhood that infused the image.

"She looks like a Madonna," Tess sobbed, pressing her fingers to the image as if she could somehow touch her friend and her precious baby.

J.T serepticiously swiped a tear from his own eye and indicated the photo. "She's found a safe haven, at least. I don't recognise the sender, and if Catherine follows protocol that will be the one and only time she'll use it before deleting it."

Tess nudged him. "Who gives a flying fuck about protocol, Cat has a baby girl...I wish I knew what name they chose for her."

"Guess we'll never know. She took a helluva risk just getting this much to us. There's nothing to indicate if Vincent is with her..." J.T peered closer but just as soon sat back in his chair. "It is a cute baby, but I suppose when you consider her parents she wasn't likely to be an ugly duckling."

"J.T!" Tess swatted him. "Cat and Vincent have a baby...oh, my God, how wonderful is that."

J.T couldn't resist and rolled his eyes. "That is the usual outcome when you're pregnant!"

Tess laughed. "I need a drink, want one?"

Karen nervously wiped her hands on her jeans before putting them back on the steering wheel. There was a queue of cars up ahead and the state police manning a check point, but she knew it had nothing to do with the police really. It was Muirfield, and somehow she had to make it through without them finding Vincent. She turned on the radio and forced herself to relax, she had her story well rehearsed, and all it needed was a bit of luck and a good performance. Reaching down she grabbed the can of Coke and took a sip to steady herself. The cars inched forward and she along with them. Her sunglasses helped to give her a measure of composure but it was a near thing when the officer waved her over to the side and she lowered her window.

"What's all the fuss about, Officer?"

"We looking for an escaped convict, been seen in these parts as recently as yesterday. Can I ask you business?"

"Going to see my daughter, Caroline, over in Twin Falls."

"Can I see your licence and registration, ma'am."

Karen handed them over, restraining herself from tapping the steering wheel impatiently.

"I'll just be a moment, ma'am. Please remain in your car." The officer instructed before taking her identification away. Karen sat and waited, the music on the radio a background buzz.

"Going out of town, Mrs. Luscombe?" A voice asked from behind her. Karen jumped.

"Shit, what the hell are you doing creeping up on a person?" she turned to see a man in black standing beside her car. Instantly she broke out in goosebumps, but kept her aplomb. "I wasn't aware there was a curfew?"

"I'm sure the officer told you we're looking for a very dangerous felon. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

"Why on Earth should I know anything?" Karen retorted, nettled by the man. She checked her rear-view mirror and saw another agent looking at the back of her hatchback.

"No reason at all. Would you care to open the back of your car, Mrs. Luscombe?"

"I would care, what reason do you have to search my car?" Karen asked, feeling panic creep up on her, her legs starting to shake. "Don't you have to have a search warrant?"

"Open the back of your car, Mrs. Luscombe. It won't take a moment."

Karen tried to stare the man down, but gave in and pulled the latch to release the rear door. The agent hovering at the back pulled open the hatch and stared at the contents packed neatly against the back seat.

"Is there a reason you have all this stuff packed away here?" The agent at the back asked.

"Not that it's any of you business, it's my daughter's stuff she left at my place, I'm finally decided to clear it out and take it to her. Is that a crime, these days?" Her voice sounded shrill to her ears and she tried to damp down her fear. The police officer was returning with her paperwork and she hoped he'd found nothing further to detain her. The agents had shut the back of her car and moved away.

"Thank you, ma'am, everything is in order." He handed her licence and registration back to her with a smile.

Karen forced herself to smile back. "Hope you have better luck finding whoever you're after."

"I'm sure we will, ma'am. Have a good trip."

Karen eased the car out of the queue and followed the directing officer back out onto the highway. For another mile she gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white, so tense her teeth were gritted. A quick glance in the mirror showed her the road block was now out of sight and she pulled over. She rested her head on the steering wheel for a moment then took another gulp of her now lukewarm Coke to steady herself. She lowered the can and almost died of fright.

"Vincent! Oh, my God you scared the shit out of me. Get in!"

Once her passenger was aboard she pulled back onto the highway and pushed her foot down on the accelerator hard. The little car gamely leapt forward, carrying them both out of Arco and temporarily beyond the reach of Muirfield.

Catherine stared out of the apartment window and idly twisted the wedding ring on her finger around and around. It was still early, the baby sleeping after her morning feed and Marita wasn't due for another hour or so. The sun was rising unfettered by clouds, washing the buildings with bright gilding and reflecting off the myriad windows like sequins. She felt restless, her thoughts all on Vincent and where he was. For some unfathomable reason she knew he was close, but if pressed she'd have no way of explaining how. There had been numerous incidents when she had simply known he was near to her, the incident at the wedding a classic case in point. She had been facing in the opposite direction to the doors onto the patio, but that hadn't stopped her sensing his presence, the feeling like being enveloped in a velvet cloak, warm and soft. It had happened again and again, this strange pull of attraction, a sixth sense of when he was near, the knowing now accepted as part of the whole, as part of their thing. She couldn't ask anyone else if this was normal between lovers, it seemed such a silly thing to bring up. Maybe it was unique to them, a side effect of Vincent's unique dna, maybe it was something he'd passed on to her. Catherine shook her head, that didn't wash because they weren't lovers before that night. Smiling to herself she made a mental note to ask Vincent about that particular phenomenon when she saw him next.

Turning away from the window she went to fix herself breakfast, but the sensation stayed with her, a tickle at the edge of her consciousness, like an elusive memory that you know is in your head but you can't quite grasp it and bring it into focus. It both elated and depressed her. It confirmed for her that he was alive, but also brought home to her the impossibility of him finding her. Portland was no backwater hick town with a population of a couple of thousand, the city sprawled in all directions and had over two million residents. Even if he hit on the right city, it was a needle in a haystack search to find her. And if he did find her, then what? Did they stay here or move on? Was that going to be their normal? To find a place, stay a little while until Muirfield found them then escape and find another hiding place? Possibly workable with only the two of them, but they were now three and being on the run was not an option for her and Belle.

For the first time she faced the real possibility of making the hardest decision in her adult life. Could she give up Vincent, send away the love of her life and the father of her child, for the sake of a normal, safe existence for herself and Bella?

The worst part was, she knew that Vincent would agree to do that, he would go, leave them because he loved her and loved their child and would rather rip out his own heart than put them in danger. The pain was like a hand in her chest, squeezing her heart into dust.

Catherine stood, her breakfast abandoned, and blindly walked to the window again. The sun was rising in the sky and bathing everything in a golden light but she saw none of it, her eyes awash with unheeded tears. Slowly she turned the ring on her finger around and around.


	22. Part TwentyTwo

"Dammit!" Reynold raked his fingers through his hair and glared at the man standing in front of his desk. "How in all seven hells did he manage to slip through the net? He was wounded with no medical aid or transportation. Can you explain how this fuck up has happened?"

"We assume he had help." His agent replied stony faced.

Reynolds felt sorely tempted to get out his gun and shoot something. "Well of course he had someone fucking helping him. Who was it?" He thundered, the agent wincing fractionally.

"We can't be sure, there's no evidence..." the man tried to explain.

"You even had a third gen to help you. Couldn't he sniff Vincent out?"

"We had a bit of trouble with the third gen, sir. He had to be confined."

Reynold glared again, his blood pressure rising at the incompetence of his subordinates.

"Confined? Explain."

The agent shifted from one foot to the other. "He was becoming unmanageable. In all honesty, sir, he creeped everyone out. In the end he wigged out one time too many and we had to subdue him."

Reynolds ground his teeth. "Did it ever occur to you that he could have been used like a blood hound? If you'd let him off the leash he would have found Vincent and quite possibly delivered him trussed and ready for delivery. Instead you muzzled your best asset and Vincent has slipped through our fingers. Get out of my fucking sight before I shoot you."

The man didn't wait to test the Directors patience and marched out smartly. It was not unknown for Director Reynolds to take a direct approach when dealing with failure.

Reynolds stood up and turned his back on the room, once more running his fingers through his already disordered hair. It was obvious now that Vincent and Catherine had parted company at some stage, Vincent leading the Muirfield agents on a merry trek through the mountains while his lover and his child escaped to God knows where. Now Vincent had been almost within their grasp, even winged, if the blood trail was to be believed, but still he'd managed to find help from somewhere or someone and slipped the noose. It was becoming a bad habit.

It was also becoming positively tiresome to keep chasing Vincent Keller all over the bloody place. If you factored in the huge resources out in the field, the cost of the operation and the poor results from all that time and money, it hardly seemed worthwhile to keep up the pursuit.

Did they really need to have Vincent Keller locked away? They had all the samples, test results and raw material to spawn an army of Vincent's if that was all they wanted. Vincent was a second gen and Muirfield were already moving on to the third generation of cross species hybrids, each one developing a new enhancement unique to that person, a side effect of their own dna spliced with certain animal species producing some encouraging results.

The only drawback so far had been the instability of most of them. It was still a problem at a most basic emotional level for all the trial subjects. Some managed better than others, but all had a tendency to 'wig out', as it was colourfully described, when placed in stressful situations. It was a problem faced by all the generations to date, but all of them had dealt with it differently. Gabe Lowen, a first gen, had to take a specialised cocktail of drugs to remain human for any length of time, the combination of chemicals ultimately lethal if taken for too long. Vincent Keller had managed his transformations better, certainly more so since the advent of his relationship with Catherine Chandler, but that had been a recent evolution after a long period of over a decade.

Now they had the third gens who had the transmogrification process down to a fine art, but still struggled with the emotional fall out resulting in heightened aggression and over developed territorial inclinations.

It was a headache whichever way you looked at it.

He turned back to his desk and sat down. They had wasted enough money and resources in the field, it was time to turn the search over to the techs with their facial recognition software, digital spyware and over the top Big Brother complex that watched and snooped and pried into the lives of American citizens both domestically and off shore. They had the computer power to search the entire continent for patterns and matches to names, faces, digital signatures, you name it, they could find anyone given enough time. Vincent Keller was proving too smart, or just plain fucking lucky, for the human component to catch him, so let the electronic surveillance beasties have a go at finding him instead. Then, once they did it was a simple operation to seek and secure, all the hard work done already.

Sitting back in his chair, Reynolds put his hands behind his head and relaxed. There was more than one way of catching a chimera than simply shooting it.

Vincent and Karen reached Twin Falls and parted company there. Her daughter really did live there and it was decided on the trip there that maybe it was time Karen took an extended visit with her. Karen had wanted to argue but having seen the length this Muirfield organisation were prepared to go, she gave up the struggle with only a token fight. It would still go down as the most excitement she'd experienced since leaving the paramedics, with aspects of the adventure that would probably give her nightmares. In the end Vincent accepted her gift of the well traveled Toyota for him to use in his search for Catherine and the baby. He also gave her a few guidelines to keeping off the radar in case Muirfield were still inhabiting Arco and tracked him to her trailer. Karen assured him she'd take all precautions and then it was time to part. They were within walking distance of the daughters' place, not wanting to involve anyone else, and Karen had unloaded her couple of bags of belongings and stood facing Vincent.

"Don't you dare get yourself killed or caught. You have a beautiful daughter and wife waiting for you."

"I won't. And the same applies to you, okay?"

Karen nodded. "Keep that wound clean and try not to go traipsing about in mountains until it's healed."

"I won't. I have to go." Vincent hugged her, Karen squeezing him back fiercely. Then they parted.

"Thank you." Vincent said, a wealth of meaning in the simple words. Karen smiled, and waved her hand at him, too choked up to form words. Then the car was pulling away and quickly lost to sight when it turned a corner.

She would miss the old heap. Swiping at her face, she sniffed and looked around.

Picking up her bags she walked the short distance to her daughters' home and up the front path to the door. Her daughter was in for one hell of a surprise.

Vincent mused on the nature of luck and coincidence as he drove towards the setting sun, the only direction he could follow given the loose nature of his plans formulated with Catherine before she left. They didn't make specific plans in case he was recaptured and Muirfield used irregular means to find out where she was. Go west may have been corny, but it was all they chose to use as a clue.

Having Karen Luscombe as an unexpected ally had made all the difference to Vincent's chances. Without her help he'd have been back in the hands of Muirfield and Catherine would be raising their child alone, always wondering what had happened to him, or whether he was even alive. Karen had given him not only her car, but enough money to set him on his way at least until he reached the west coast. From there he'd have to trust his instincts and the special connection he had with Catherine to find her. They had never let him down before, and he had even more reason to trust them now. As the miles disappeared behind him and the sun shed the last of its light over the land, he allowed himself to think of nothing but Catherine and Bella, of his last moments with them. It was like an image of them both together swam before his vision, Catherine's sweet expression as she looked up, the baby at her breast, both of them more precious than anything else in the world to him. The blare of a horn recalled him to the road again, Vincent switching on the headlights as Idaho crossed over into Nevada, the wonders of the iconic scenery lost in the silky darkness.

In Elko, two hours out of Twin Falls, he found an abandoned car and stole the plates, removing and burying Karen's plates for good measure. He drove through the night and only pulled over when he couldn't stay awake, finding a sheltered lay by to snatch a few hours before continuing on. He passed through Reno, crossed into California then turned north on the three ninety five to take him behind the Sierra Nevada's and into Oregon by the back roads. If anyone had asked he couldn't explain why he was heading away from the coast, but he somehow knew he was going in the right direction. If he was fanciful he's almost say that Catherine was calling to him, a phenomenon that had no basis in fact or evidence other than his uncanny ability to know where she was and find his way to her side with unerring accuracy. For him it was as natural as breathing. He'd been following her and watching over Catherine for more than ten years, so attuned to her that he only had to close his eyes to feel the tug of her pulling him to where she was. It was the same now, only magnified so that he could almost taste and smell her, like a bloodhound following a scent trail. Of course it was possible he was doing just that, tracing the same route that Catherine took with Bella, some trace of her presence still lingering long after she'd passed through. Whatever the mechanics he just knew he had to go north, the next major stop being Portland once he passed over the state line to Oregon.

He stopped at Bend to rest and refuel, glad to be out of the forest for a short time. The trees reminded him of the night he'd rescued Catherine, the night he couldn't save Vanessa Chandler. It also reminded him of the fight in the woods when Alex had seen his true form and rejected him. He had told Catherine at the time he was just trying to do the right thing, but if he dug a little deeper he'd have to admit that he had enjoyed the familiarity of having Alex looking up to him, relying on him and offering the opportunity of another life free of Muirfield. Of course, as Catherine had rightly pointed out, it was just a fantasy, as fragile as fog and just as quickly dispelled in the flames of his love for her. Didn't stop him wondering if Alex had found peace and a new life somewhere.

Upon reflection, Vincent decided to rest before the big push over the Cascades to connect with Interstate five. His finances were almost exhausted but he had enough for a last tank of gas and a meal. He planned to wait until morning and drive the last few hours to Portland at day break. He sniffed the air at the truck stop, the smell of exhaust fumes and food over laying anything else. Hunching his shoulders deeper into his jacket he went into the station to pay for the gas, not noticing the security camera swivel to follow his movements.


	23. Part TwentyThree

Catherine slowly wiped the formica table top, sweeping the crumbs into her hand before dropping them on the plates to be cleared. She worked with only half her attention on her actions, her thoughts jumbled and scattered as she sleep walked through the day.

"You'd better get your head out of the clouds, or we'll never make it through the lunch crowd in one piece!" Janets voice cut through her preoccupation.

"Sorry. I just can't seem to keep my mind on the job." Catherine replied, gathering the plates and carrying them to the hatch for Sam to collect. The door to the diner opened and closed, Catherine not taking any notice of the customer but instead heading out back to the bathroom to wash her hands. She paused to look into the mirror above the sink, her make up smothered face under its garish red wig doing nothing to improve her mood.

Heading back out into the diner she checked with Janet to see if there were any new customers.

"One in the last booth, tall fella, looks like he'll have a big appetite." Janet told her, flicking her head in the direction of the customer. Catherine pulled out her order pad and headed for the booth, still not really paying any attention.

"What can I get you?" She asked, not looking up.

"What do you recommend?" the male patron asked in a voice that sent warm shivers up and down Catherine's spine. The notepad fell forgotten along with the pen to the floor. Catherine looked up into the face of the customer

At the same time he rose to his feet, topping her by several inches, his face no longer hidden by a beard, his hazel eyes intent on hers.

"Catherine." Her name spoked in that low, familiar growl awoke every nerve in her body.

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him, he wrapped her in his arms and covered her mouth with his, the kiss in equal parts deep, desperate and all consuming. They didn't break apart but appeared to try and climb into each others skin, hands skimming over each other as if searching for damages or differences, the seconds ticking by for the astonished audience of two cooks, the proprietor and three interested patrons.

Catherine stood on her tiptoes, pressing herself shamelessly against Vincent, her mouth busy, tongues tangling, Vincent aiding in her seduction by holding her tight against his body, his hands spread over her back and bottom, letting her know in no uncertain terms just how he was feeling about her.

Janet cleared her throat but the lovers ignored her and all around them. Janet tried again, moving closer and clearing her throat noisily.

"Ahem..."

Vincent lifted his head, tearing his mouth from Catherine's. Catherine didn't stop her assault on him, her mouth latching on to his neck, her hands busy under his jacket so that he had to grab them to get her attention. She froze and looked up at him, then over her shoulder and around the diner, only now realising that she had been busy making love to Vincent in front of the lunchtime rush.

"Um..." she started only to break off when Vincent squeezed her hand in his.

Janet jumped into the breach before either of them could speak, her sharp eyes spotting the ring on his left hand. "You must be the missing husband? I'm Janet and I'm going to need my waitress back if we're to have any hope of serving our customers over the next two hours."

"Um..." Catherine tried again, only to have nothing to add, her brain still occupied with having Vincent in her arms again.

Janet eyed her waitress and tutted. "Um, indeed. If you put him down, he's not going to go anywhere, and once the rush is over you can take him upstairs and do whatever you like with him."

Vincent grinned. "I wouldn't want to be the reason for holding up the appetites of your customers. I'll just go sit down again and let you get on." He assured Janet.

Gently he pushed Catherine away, her hands clinging for a second before letting go. "I'll be right here where I can see you, and you can see me, okay?"

Catherine managed to nod, her eyes never leaving his face, her lips looking well kissed. Janet rolled her eyes and went back to her station behind the counter.

"Better go fix your makeup," she told Catherine, nodding to at Vincent. "He's wearing most of it!"

How Catherine got through the next two hours she didn't know. Vincent was true to his work and stayed exactly where she'd left him, working his way through several coffee's and as many plates of food that Janet kept him supplied with, not allowing Catherine to serve him.

"It's bad enough you can't keep your eyes off each other, I'll never be able to prise you apart if you go near him!" Janet told her, shooing her away to serve another customer.

At length Janet took pity on them both and let Catherine finish, having called in one of the part time staff to fill in for the rest of the day. Vincent didn't get a chance to say thank you to Janet before Catherine was dragging him through the kitchen door, past the knowing looks of Sam and Seamus, into the back where she paused, swinging around to pull him close and just hold him.

She suddenly burst into noisy sobs, her clenched fist thumping him lightly on the chest again and again. "I-I didn't know if-if I would see you aga-in."

"Shhh love, I'm sorry it took so long to get back to you...shhhh." Vincent rocked her in his arms, his free hand plucking off the horrible wig so that his fingers could smooth over her hair, They stood like that at the bottom of the stairs, holding on to each other and absorbing the fact that they were, at long last, together again.

At length Catherine pulled back, her makeup smeared, her hands coming up to wipe away her tears but making the mess worse. She gave a small laugh. "I must look horrible."

Vincent gave her a crooked smile and used his thumb to wipe away some of the black smudging around her eyes. "You look beautiful."

Catherine laughed again, the sound more genuine. "Oh, Vincent I've missed you."

Above their heads they heard the faint sound of a baby's wail. Catherine grabbed Vincent's hand and started to pull him up the stair. "You won't believe how Bella has changed since you last saw her, she's so beautiful and she's starting to look like you.."

Vincent forbore to comment, following his lover up the stairs to the sunny apartment, a tiny woman standing with his daughter in her arms, as if waiting for them to appear.

Marita beamed at Catherine, not commenting on her dishevelled appearance but handing over the baby. "You'll want to show your man little Bella." Marita turned her head to address Vincent. "You have a beautiful daughter. I hope you are staying around now."

Vincent didn't miss a beat, glancing down at the tiny woman and giving her a smile. "I fully intend to, and yes, they are both beautiful." His eyes drank in the sight of Catherine cradling their baby, her cheek nuzzling the down on Bella's head, the baby grabbing at the dangling strands of her mother's hair, tiny hands opening and closing like petals.

Catherine looked up and their eyes met, Vincent closing the small distance between them to enclose his family, kissing the mother of his child and then kissing the tiny head nestled between them. Marita continued to beam at the family picture before taking herself off to give them some privacy.

Vincent stood rocking from side to side, Bella content in is arms, her huge eyes staring up at her father in fascination. Vincent, equally fascinated, stared back, his face creased in a permanent goofy smile. Catherine had gone to finally clean herself up after giving Bella a feed, glad to wash off the make up and brush out her hair. She had glanced at the mirror and almost screamed on seeing her face with the mess of makeup after her emotional outburst, but it was quickly gone and with a change of clothes she was back to being Catherine Chandler, mother and lover to the two most important people in her life.

Vincent turned when he felt her small hand rest on his back, his eyes sweeping over her beloved features now free of their disguise and all the more dear for that.

"Hello, beautiful," Vincent whispered, his glance dropping to her mouth seconds before he bent to kiss her. Their lips clung for a long second before parting, the baby reaching out for her mother and chortling.

"Bathrooms free if you want to wash up. I'm afraid I rather peppered you with my lipstick."

"Bella doesn't seem to mind, but I'll hand her over and go see the damage," Vincent teased, passing the baby over.

When he came back minutes later he was free of the telltale smudges of red, and his over long hair brushed back from his face. Catherine looked up at him from her seat on the couch, drinking him in and smiling. "Sit." She patted the cushions and Vincent dropped down beside her. "Tell me what happened to you after we left."

Vincent reached over with a finger and let Bella wrap her tiny hand around it. "I was in a car crash, trekked around the mountains for awhile, went back to Arco, got shot, escaped with Karen, drove across country and here I am."

Catherine gaped at him, her eyes running over him looking for injuries. "You were in a crash and got shot? Where?"

"Where did I crash?" Vincent teased.

"No. Where were you shot?" Catherine scowled at him, when he shrugged, as if getting shot was no more important that having a flu jab.

"In the leg. Karen, wonderful woman, got the bullet out and sewed me back together. She also helped me escape and gave me her car. I owe my being here with you all to her."

"I'll thank her if I ever see her again." Catherine replied, shifting Bella onto her lap, holding her there and bouncing her, her long fingers supporting the baby's head. "And Muirfield?"

"Apparently they have another one of me to play with. They sent it to sniff me out at the trailer park."  
"They've created another hybrid?"

"It would appear so. And something else, that wasn't the first cross-species that Karen had run into."

"What?" Catherine stared at him wide-eyed.

"She saw one in Kansas City years ago. It's possible it was Gabe, but I don't know. I thought he was domiciled in New York, but it's possible he moved from city to city in his search for Muirfield."

"J.T could find out..." Catherine suddenly snapped her lips together.

"J.T? Have you been in touch with him?"

"Not exactly," Catherine confessed. "I sent an image of me and Bella to him to share with Tess. I made sure it couldn't be traced and haven't used it since."

"Did he reply?" Vincent asked, still playing with Bella's fingers.

"I don't know. I deleted the account after sending it."

Vincent smiled. "He taught you well." Catherine smiled with him. Bella chortled and yawned, rubbing her eyes with a tiny clenched fist.

"Time for someone to sleep," Catherine cooed, lifting the baby on to her shoulder. Vincent got up as well and followed mother and baby into the bedroom. Catherine check Bella didn't need changing then wrapped her snugly and laid her in the basket beside the double bed. Vincent draped his arm around her waist and stood beside Catherine just watching their precious miracle slowly fall asleep.

"You are a wonderful mother," Vincent whispered, pressing a kiss to Catherine's cheek.

Catherine leant against him and sighed happily, then turned and took his hand, leading him out of the bedroom, along the passageway and into the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind them.

Once inside she turned to face him and started to lift his t-shirt off over his head. Vincent was a quick study and tossed the shirt away, reaching for her and undoing the buttons of her blouse before peeling it off her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her collar bone as he did. Next her clever fingers were undoing the button of his jeans and lowering the zip, pushing them down over his hips while Vincent suckled on her neck, his palms pushing the straps of her bra down her arms, his fingers reaching for the clasp at the front.

With exquisite tenderness they undressed each other, rediscovering forgotten territory, mapping familiar dips and hollows with hands and lips, exploring new marks and scars, worshiping each other with loving touches and strokes that relearned and remembered.

Turning on the shower, Catherine pulled Vincent in with her, arms tangling under the warm water, eager lips meeting and fusing, tongues tangling and tasting, feasting as the moisture beaded on rosy nipples and smooth, hard flesh. Soon not only steam filled the air as flesh blended together and soft moans and sighs echoed off the ceramic tiles, a hand flattening against the fogged up glass door as bodies moved together in heated passion.

"I love you so much," Vincent breathed against her neck, his tongue lapping at the moist pulse beating under her skin.

Catherine stretched and purred, her fingers stroking over his head, scratching lightly against his scalp with her nails. Vincent grasped her wrist and stretched out her arm, kissing his way to her elbow, swirling his tongue against the soft skin before moving his head and capturing a pert nipple between his teeth. A gentle suckle produced a sweet reward, Catherine holding his head to her breast as he lapped and tugged on her sensitive flesh.

At length they left the shower and moved back to the bedroom, the baby oblivious as her parents made up for the long days apart, making love again before falling asleep themselves, heart to heart, entwined and inseparable once more.


	24. Part TwentyFour

"What do you mean he's escaped?"

The agent being questions manfully refrained from wincing. "He somehow broke out and hasn't been seen since yesterday." He reported.

"You were supposed to decamp and return here with everyone accounted for. Now you tell me that our first generation three chimera is out there somewhere on the loose?"

"That is the case, sir."

"And who do I have to thank for this debacle?" Reynold asked quietly, the icy tone more menacing than his former shouting.

The agent stared straight ahead. "Team blue were responsible for maintaining surveillance on Adam." He replied, not meeting the Director's hard gaze.

"I see. Did Adam say or do anything prior to escaping that would indicate his frame of mind or maybe what he was going to do once free?"

"No, sir. Everything is in the report, such as it is."

Reynolds made a sound of disgust then waved his hand at the agent. "You're dismissed." What he would have liked to have said would be more along the lines of "Fuck off!" but he managed to rein in his temper and consider the situation coolly.

Adam was the cream of the current crop of volunteers, part of an accelerated group of cross-species specimens that he had hoped were ready for use in the field. Instead the chimera had caused his seasoned agents to confine him for 'wigging out'. More likely Adam's sheer intensity had made the agents wary and uncomfortable, resulting in his misuse and failure in tracking successfully. Adam was a fully functioning adult male, capable of taking care of himself, but with several enhancements that could, and likely would manifest themselves both at will and under stress. It was why he had been sent out with a team of agents to watch out for any abnormalities and smooth over any errors in behaviour when in public.

Instead his agents had fumbled the ball and Adam had escaped. What he thought he would do, or where he'd go was the problem at hand. Having an unstable super human let loose on the unsuspecting public could result in a debacle of epic proportions. The worst scenario being the loss of a valuable investment of time and research.

Finding him would be added to the cyber tech departments work load, the search for Adam put on an equally high priority to that for Vincent Keller.

As if reading his mind, one of the cyber techs knocked on his door and entered with a folder in his hand.

"Yes?"

"Sir, I have a preliminary report on the gen two, Vincent Keller."

Reynold perked up and held out his hand for the folder. Opening it, he spread out the images across his desk. Most were black and white and horribly grainy, but the face that was repeated in each picture was unmistakably the runaway hybrid, despite the beard.

"Excellent work. Do we have a fix on him yet?"

"He was last tracked to a place called Bend in Oregon."  
"Never heard of it," Reynolds commented, picking up the pictures one by one and studying them.

"Nobody had, we needed google maps to find it. The petrol station security camera had a satellite feed which is how we snagged these."

"Excellent. Any luck tracking him further?" Reynolds asked, looking up and regarding the tech with interest.

"If we extrapolate his heading north, he could be either in Washington state with the goal of Seattle, or planning to head west and reach Portland. Whatever his destination he won't be able to hide forever, the bigger the city the more cameras, money machines, facebook image uploads and general access to resources we have to track him down in either respective areas."

"Marvellous progress, you have excelled yourselves. I look forward to hearing more when you establish where he's based."

The technician preened under the Directors fulsome praise. "We only need a bit of luck and a good network of cyber-eyes and we'll have him in no time at all."

"Then get to it!" Reynolds waved the tech away, his attention all on the report and images before him. It seemed Vincent wasn't as clever as he thought he was.

As for Adam, he'd slip up and they'd just have to follow the trail of bodies to capture him again.

It was all turning into a glorious game of cat and mouse, with the cat finally gaining the upper hand.

The first mauling was reported in a little town called Blackfoot, just south of Arco, the incident reported as a dog attack leaving the victim bloodied, without his car and no memory of how it happened. Within twenty four hours there was another, this time a death attributed to an animal attack on the outskirts of Twin Falls. It received a passing mention on the local news channel, the item capturing Karen Luscombe's attention and sending her to her daughter's laptop to get more information. There was little more to find out, but something told her, some sense of what the young man with the glowing eyes, and Vincent in full Beast mode was capable of. In the past she would have ignored such seemingly random news and felt sorry for the victim, but this was in her backyard, figuratively, and her family could be at risk. Getting to her feet she went to the window and stared out at the late afternoon sky, wrapping her arms about her and rubbing to instill some warmth back into her limbs. She was about to turn away when a figure standing motionless on the corner of the street turned his head to face towards her. Frozen in place she recognised the young man from the trailer park, his eyes not glowing but the expression was the same, intent and deadly. The staring match between them lasted only seconds and within a single blink he was gone from her sight, Karen pressing her face to the window to see up and down the street but there was nothing. Thoroughly rattled, she backed away from the front window, her mouth dry with fear. After ten minutes had ticked by, she moved forward again and peered out. Still no sign of the stranger. After half an hour she started to relax a little with still no evidence of the young man's presence. Two hours later and she was out on the street, the night closing in, and searching the area where she saw him standing, but it was like looking for a ghost.

In the end she didn't see him again, but sorely wished she had the means to contact Vincent and warn him that someone, something was on his trail and tracking him down.

Vincent awoke and stretched, joints popping as he rolled over and surveyed the room. Catherine was sitting in a easy chair by the window, Bella at her breast, humming to herself as she fed the baby. Vincent propped himself up on his elbow and watched the tender scene. Still humming, Catherine switched Bella to the other breast, rearranging the robe to accommodate her hungry child who settled quickly and suckled contentedly.

"I will never get tired of seeing you like this," Vincent murmured, not wanting to startle either mother or child. Catherine looked up and smiled, her eyes glowing with love.

"Sorry if we woke you. She's a greedy little thing and when she want's breakfast I don't argue the point."

"You didn't wake me, and I wouldn't want to miss this for the world."

Vincent lay back against the head of the bed after heaping the pillows behind his shoulders. With the covers pushed down to his waist he lay there watching, his bed hair and naked torso tempting his lover with all sorts of sinful thoughts. Bella finally had her fill and Catherine lifted her on to her shoulder to bring up wind, which she did with surprising volume making both her parents laugh. Catherine carried Bella over to the bed, handing his over to Vincent before climbing in herself. The baby stared up at Vincent with large, liquid eyes rimmed with dark lashes, her downy tuft of hair echoing her father's bed hair. He sat the baby on his thighs, supporting her between his big hands, the child gurgling and kicking her legs, little hands waving. Catherine watched the interplay and felt the love inside her swell and blossom, the warmth radiating out to envelop her small family in its embrace. She wanted to capture the moment, bottle it and keep it safe from the forces trying to destroy it, her eyes drawn to her lover's body, her hand stroking his arm as if to reassure herself he was real, solid and safe back with her again. Vincent glanced down and shared his joy in the moment with her, the outside world fading to nothing, shrinking to only the three of them and the love between them.

All too soon reality intruded when Bella decided it was time to fill her nappy, the air of the bedroom suddenly pungent, galvanizing Catherine to get off the bed while Vincent held the odorous infant at arm's length, joking that his eyes were watering and asking what she'd been feeding the baby to produce such a by-product. Between them Bella was divested of her stretch-and-grow and her nappy removed, Vincent watching the process with a mixture of interest and laughing disbelief that one small baby could produce such colourful toxic waste. Catherine laughed along with him, passing on anecdotes of Bella's less steller efforts and warning Vincent not to wear a black shirt or be prepared to have it decorated with spit-up.

The talk of clothes reminded Vincent that he had only what he'd arrived in, none of them particularly clean or fresh.

"We need to go shopping." He announced. While she dressed, Catherine told him of an Op Shop just on the corner that would serve them well, being cheap and the clothing anonymous. They only had what she'd earnt in the few weeks she's been at the diner, so their budget was small. Vincent suggested they also look for a stroller but Catherine shook her head.

"I don't want to slow us down if we have to run. I have a sling I use when I go out to the market down the road. Bella loves it and it keeps my hands free."

The suddenly serious topic doused Vincent like iced water. For a moment he'd actually forgotten the forces ranged against them, the idyllic morning like a bubble out of time.

"You're right, of course. We need to keep a low profile until we can plan what to do next. Before we go down, you'd better tell me what you've said so I get our cover story right."

They strolled hand in hand together to the second-hand shop and spent an hour putting together a small wardrobe of clothes for Vincent suitable for the climate and coming winter in Portland. He still had the clothes in the back of the pick up parked behind the diner, but a quick inspection on their way out revealed that damp had got in and all of the packed clothes needed a wash before he could wear them again. Vincent was grateful to find a pair of good fitting jeans, discarding the ones Karen had supplied, grateful for their loan at the time, but glad to be back in something tailored for his leaner waistline. His boots were also replaced, the soles all but dropping off having been used over rough terrain, frozen, soaked and ruined in the process The volunteers manning the shop, mostly women and retired, didn't bother hiding their interest when Vincent stripped down to try on the trousers, or removed his shirt to reveal his impressive physique while finding a shirt to fit. Catherine bit her lip to not burst out laughing at their expressions teetering between shock, disapproval and downright lustful appreciation of the show. Vincent seemed completely oblivious, his eyes meeting hers and asking her approval, not looking to left or right, only at her. It made her feel hot to be the focus of all his attention after such a long break apart. Her body reacted to him on a purely animal level, her breasts tingling for his touch, between her legs getting slick and sensitive in anticipation of being filled with him. It was positively embarrassing. Flushed with arousal and trying not to be obvious about pressing her legs together, she tried to distract herself from Vincent watching by looking at the small selection of baby clothes, Bella happy in her sling and playing with the small toy Catherine had suspended on a chain to hang within Bella's reach.

Vincent deposited a small mountain of items on the counter and left the women to add it up, wandering over to look at what had caught Catherine's attention. He inhaled deeply, the smell of aroused Catherine making his own body light up and rise to the occasion. He growled and bent to kiss the nape of her neck, a silent collective sigh filling the shop from the watching volunteers trying to look busy and not get caught staring.

"Vincent, stop that," Catherine whispered, appalled and amused at their shared predicament.

"I'm done shopping, let's go back to the apartment." Vincent purred against her ear, sending shivers up and down her body. Catherine swallowed hard.

"You're not helping." she admonished him, peeling away to approach the counter and pay for their purchases. The motherly woman serving her smiled broadly, her eyes flicking to where Vincent stood by one of the racks.

"You have a handsome man there. Do thank him for the floor show, won't you?"

Catherine blushed bright pink and mumbled her thanks before taking the bags and saying goodbye. The women watched as she whispered something to Vincent, the lovely man glancing over his shoulder at the ladies watching and sending them a broad grin and a wink before raising his hand in farewell.


	25. Part TwentyFive

Adam arrived in Portland only a few days after Vincent, the younger man following his quarry's trail like it was a red painted line leading all the way to the diner. Raising his head, Adam inhaled and sifted through the different scents of the night, his lip curling when he caught the rich and unmistakable aroma of sex, his infrared vision piercing the darkness and illuminating the two people in the apartment across the road from where he stood in the unlit room. The former inhabitant was stinking up his own bedroom, blood sprays decorating the walls while his viscera hung from the ceiling light. Adam didn't intend staying there much longer, the smell of death not unpleasant to him but a familiar and intoxicating perfume he never tired of. Eventually it would bring the flies, then someone to investigate, and that would bring the police then Muirfield. Before then he expected to have captured the fugitive, made use of his lover and snuffed the life out of their puling spawn. The image was so vivid in his mind his eyes glowed brightly, his hand rhythmical raking the wall beside him, scoring deep furrows in the plaster and wood. That the thought of the death and terror he planned for his intended victims aroused him didn't raise a flicker of a red flag for his conscience. That had been supressed and despatched, his first scent of Vincent back in Arco firing his desires to fever pitch and banishing any guilt or remorse to the furthest corner of his intellect. Adam was pure animal instinct running without a leash or restraint. If he saw it, he took it, if he wanted it, he had it. His path was littered with unfortunates that had excited one hunger or another, his lust or desire satisfied in whatever way suited his mood. There was no pity in his golden gaze, no hesitation in his slashing claws or rending teeth, he was all Beast with a thin veneer to lend him a normal aspect in daylight. At night all civility was abandoned and he prowled and hunted with frightening intensity.

He had achieved his primary goal of tracking down the second gen, now he had to find somewhere to bring the bait, a place suitable for the purpose of proving his superiority over those that had gone before. With this in mind he left the apartment, leaving the door open, and took the fire escape down to the back alley. Once there he prowled behind the row of shops and business, looking for a suitable place to carry out the next part of his plan.

Janet sank gratefully into one of the plush chairs in the apartment, kicking off her shoes and accepting the glass of a well earned Whiskey from Catherine. Vincent stood with Bella in his arms, the baby grizzling a little, fighting the wind that refused to come up. He gently patted her bottom and walked barefoot across the room, jostling the baby to help dislodge the bubble of wind causing the discomfort. He had a cloth over his shoulder that proved its worth when Bella brought up a mouthful of milk with the wind. Janet watched and smiled to see such a rough looking man be so tender and patient. Despite Catherine's protestations, Janet still harboured a fear that Vincent was as fearsome as his appearance, the wicked scar, long hair and bruiser physique were not at all what she'd expected Catherine's husband to be like. She had to give him credit though, since he'd arrived he had made himself useful, working on the truck out back in his spare time between fixing up bits and pieces around the diner including a new coat of paint on the walls of the men's and women's restrooms and even installing a security camera, a stipulation of her insurance company after the hold up.

"You know those two blockheads that robbed us the other week" Janet asked, ignoring the horrified expression on Catherine's face and her frantic hand waving.

"The diner was robbed?" Vincent asked, flicking a glance at Catherine. "What happened?"

"Well..." Janet started only to be interrupted by Catherine.

"Nothing, nothing at all." Catherine smiled up at him, the picture of innocence. "Want me to take Bella for a moment?"

"No, we're good. Janet?" Vincent looked over at the diner's owner. "What was this nothing?"

"Two punks decided they had a better right to our days takings and held up the diner at gunpoint." Janet told him, taking a perverse delight in Vincent's grim expression. "Gunpoint?"

Catherine tried to deflect Vincent's interest. "I thought we could take Bella to the park and see the ducks tomorrow..."

"Fine." Vincent replied. "So, Janet...about these two punks with guns?"

"So, as I was saying, these two assholes walk into my place and demand the takings. The younger one spots Catherine off to the side and decides to try his luck..."

Catherine propped her elbows on her knees and dropped her head into her hands, stifling a groan.

Janet smiled and warmed to her tale. "Well, Catherine here doesn't take kindly to his overtures and when he pulls a gun on her she does this amazing kick thing and then punches him. Never saw anything like it before. Reckon she broke his nose. After that they both took off like rabbits." Janet made a gesture and whoosh sound like a rocket taking off.

Vincent raised his eyebrows, regarding his lover intently. "You took out an armed robber and didn't think to mention it?" he asked, still rocking Bella who was rapidly falling asleep on his shoulder.

Catherine looked up and cast Janet a look before lifting her gaze to meet Vincent's.

"Really, it was nothing."

Janet snorted and downed the contents of her glass. "I think it's time I was off. I'll give Sally a call and she can take your shift. The weather is set fair for tomorrow, so make the most of it. Goodnight to you both." After struggling into her shoes she walked out leaving a pregnant silence in her wake.

Realising that Bella was dozing, Vincent walked to the bedroom and carefully laid her in her cot, disposing of the soiled cloth in the laundry before returning to the lounge to confront Catherine. She was still sitting on the couch, leaning back now with one hand covering her eyes. Vincent sat down beside her and took her free hand.

"Not only beautiful and brave, but a force to be reckoned with in sensible sneakers."

Catherine didn't lower her hand from her eyes but did laugh.

"You're impossible." She told him, lowering her hand to meet his gaze. "It wasn't as dramatic as Janet makes out. Really."

"No, it was probably worse, but it's good to know you can still defend yourself if needed," said Vincent, squeezing her fingers.

Catherine looked at him quizzically. "What does that mean?"

Vincent looked down at their joined hands and drew in a long breath. "This week with you has been a gift. I've loved spending time with Bella and you but..."

Catherine suddenly sat up, alarmed. "But what?"

"Catherine, I love you, I love Bella but I'm a danger to you both. If I stay here I will eventually draw Muirfield, it's inevitable."

"So your plan is to leave us?" Catherine ignored the small voice reminding her that she had already had this very same conversation with herself, that giving up Vincent was possibly the only way to have a future for Bella and herself. Now here they were facing that very decision and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wasn't prepared to live in a future without him. "Don't you dare even contemplate leaving us, Vincent. I won't have you go all noble on me and give up your life with us because of the threat of Muirfield." She got up on her knees on the couch and faced him, using her finger to emphasise her points, stabbing it on his chest. "I have spent the last few weeks in a haze of indecision and misery thinking the same as you, that we would have to part to be safe, but now it's here I won't accept that as a solution. I won't."

"Catherine..." Vincent captured her accusing fingers and dragged her forward. "It's the only sensible thing to do..." It was killing him to say the words, but he truly believed they would be safer without him.

"Don't, Vincent. I won't listen. Where you go I go, with Bella. We're a family, our own true family. If it means living rough, or sleeping in cars, we'll do it because I've been in torment wondering what was happening to you, and I hated feeling like that. Don't make me go through that again."

She was snuggled up against him, her arms around his middle, her head against his heart. Despite his best intentions he was helpless in the face of her pleading and anguish. He no more wanted to part from her than she did from him and he'd rather die than hurt her again. He'd lost so much since his brother's deaths, his own friends and family all but gone, that if he lost Catherine and Bella as well there was no purpose in breathing anymore for him.

"Vincent?"

"Yeah."

"We'll make it work somehow, just don't leave me."

He swallowed. "Okay.

Adam looked around the abandoned building in the dawn light and smiled to himself. This was perfect. Very soon he would have the second gen on his knees and begging for mercy, the image so clear he felt the Beast rise up and transform him, his nails extending, fingers flexing as if preparing to deliver the killing blow to his adversary. His blue eyes turned yellow and his lips peeled back in a snarl, his roar frightening the birds roosting in the girders above his head and sending them clattering out in a sudden exodus. Adam paused to stretch out his senses for any reaction to the noise. Hearing nothing to indicate an investigation into the disturbance he relaxed. Here would be staged his triumph over Vincent Keller, and to the victor the spoils – Catherine Chandler.

The park was busy with mum's and their kids making the most of the morning sunshine. The air was full of birdsong and the shouts of children, the muted growl of traffic in the background. Vincent carried Bella in the sling, walking hand in hand with Catherine who still wore a wig when out in public, choosing sunglasses rather than heavy makeup to aid her disguise. Vincent simply turned up the collar of his unexceptional jacket and pulled his cap down further, hiding most of his face in the shadow cast by the peak. together they walked the perimeter of the park before deciding where to sit. Catherine chose the bench and sat down while Vincent sat down on the grass a little way in front of the bench and lifted Bella out of her cosy pouch, unfolded a small changing mat and laid her on the grass, shading her with his body to keep the bright sun out of her eyes. Everything smelt woodsy and crisp, the trees shedding the last of their fall leaves to float down and land in copper and gold coloured drifts on the grass and along the footpaths. Camellia blooms gave splashes of colour around the park softening the hard lines of the nearly bare trees trunks, in direct contrast to the neon coloured playground and colourfully dressed children running around.

"Won't be long before you'll be chasing around too," Vincent chided Bella, waggling his fingers just beyond the baby's reach while she chortled happily. Catherine took a last swig of her chai latte and looked around for a bin to put the disposable cup in.

"I'll be back in a tick, just want to get rid of this." She got up and headed for a rubbish bin set further along the path.

Vincent continued to play with Bella, the baby pushing her booty covered feet against his palm, her eyes intent on his so that he didn't notice the passage of time for several minutes. Eventually he looked up expecting to see Catherine walking back towards them. Instead the path was empty with no sign of Catherine anywhere.

Alarmed he twisted around to scan the area behind him but she wasn't there either. Bella protested his lack of attention and started to cry.

"Sorry sweetheart but your mum is playing a silly game of hide and seek. Let's get you up and back in the sling so we can go look for her, okay?" Vincent got back on his feet and scooped Bella up and slipped her back into the sling, the mat once more folded and in his jacket pocket. Walking quickly along the path towards the trash can he listened intently for any sound that was out of place, any cry of someone being taken against their will. There was nothing but the twitter of birds and distant laughter of the children. Looking into the trash can he saw the discarded disposable cup but still no sign of Catherine.

With all his internal alarm bells ringing, Vincent moved as quickly as he could with the baby held secure against his body and left the park to return to Janet's Diner. His first instinct was to tear the park apart until he found Catherine's trail, but he had to consider Bella, her safety now paramount.

On reaching the Diner he walked around to the back door and entered the apartment, hoping against hope that maybe Catherine was waiting for them. She wasn't. Marita was there, pottering about as she did and Vincent was glad to see her.

"Marita, have you heard from Catherine this morning?" As he questioned the woman he took off the sling and placed Bella on the sofa. Marita padded over.

"No, I thought she was with you and Bella."

Vincent ran a distracted hand through his hair. "Marita, I don't know what you know about our situation but I'm going to have to trust you..."

Marita's sunny expression turned serious. "What has happened?"

"Catherine is..." Vincent paused, feeling the Beast starting to surface, fed by his fear and anxiety for his lover's safety.

"Someone took our Catherina?"

"I'll find her but I have to be sure that Bella is safe, whatever happens to me or Catherine."

Marita placed a gnarled hand on his arm, instantly calming him. "I will look after the baby. You need to find our Catherina and bring her home safe."

Vincent regarded the tiny woman for a long moment before speaking again. "I need you to do more than just look after Bella. The people looking for us will want Bella too. I can't leave unless I know she will be hidden somewhere safe. I'm asking a lot of you..." Vincent paused.

"Go and find her." Marita urged him. "No one will take Bella from me. I will take her now to my home, and from there to somewhere safe. No bad people will find her once she is sheltered by the Toscarelli family." The spirited italian woman reached for the baby, cradling her. "You let Janet know when you are safe to take care of your baby again and I'll return her."

Vincent watched as Marita wrapped a dark shawl about her head and shoulders, hiding Bella in its folds, then walked out of the apartment leaving him standing there alone.

As sure as he could be that his child was in the safest a pair of hands available at short notice, Vincent put his fears for Bella out of his mind and concentrated on how he was going to find Catherine and whoever had taken her from under his nose.

There was no one around to see, so he let the Beast off the leash, his eyes glowing a fierce gold, his talons extending like unsheathed knives. Blanking his mind of anything but the image of Catherine, he breathed deeply and let the Beast enhance his senses, his nostrils flaring as he absorbed her scent within the apartment, imprinting it sharply on his brain to aid him in finding her. After a few moments he turned and raced out the door, taking the stairs in two bounds, the back door crashing open as he flung himself into the alley behind the Diner and sped off.

In the sky above the sun continued to shine down on an unsuspecting population going about their business oblivious to the fate of two lovers desperate for a future and one tiny baby, innocent and alone, hidden among strangers.

"We have them, sir." the voice over the headphones informed him. Reynolds nodded and turned to stare out the helicopter window at the thick forest rushing past below. They were approaching the outskirts of Portland, his Black Hawk flanked by three others, loaded with agents and the latest intelligence pin pointing the whereabouts of not only Vincent Keller and Catherine Chandler, but also their child and Muirfield's rogue agent, Adam. This was to be a drop and snatch with as few witnesses as possible, little or no body count and a quick clean up and exit plan. Two of the helicopters would drop their payload and dust off, while Reynolds craft and the remaining would approach their target and drop directly on the building identified by his geeks. They timed it to coincide with dusk for maximum cover and minimum exposure.

Reynolds bared his teeth in a humourless grin, glancing over at the man beside him who returned the grin with one of his own. Gregory's voice crackled in his headphones.

"We should get out more often."

This time Reynolds relaxed his face and gave a genuine laugh. "Bastard. It's like being back in Afghanistan again, tracking down insurgents in night ops."

Gregory have the thumbs up sign, then returned to his perusal of the map displayed on his iPad.

Reynold turned his head to watch the lights of Portland grow closer by the second, the faint glow of the snow covered summit of Mount Hood clearly visible in the far distance.

In a few short hours the mission would be completed and they'd be on their way back to Canada, captives aboard. He almost felt sorry for Vincent, given how hard the man had tried to shake off his pursuers, getting shot in the process. As for his daughter, Catherine, he refused to allow himself the luxury of thinking of her as his own, her choices made without knowledge of their connections, her loyalty all for her lover and child now. The time to inform her of his part in her life was long past. She was just a means to an end in controlling the rogue gen two, a lever to get results and enforce co-operation. If he told himself that enough times he mights even come to believe it – eventually.


	26. Part TwentySix

Catherine glared her defiance at the man keeping her captive. She was bound to a chair by her hands and feet, a gag in her mouth, her wig askew. Constantly she tested her bonds, looking and hoping for a weakness but in the hour she'd been there nothing had budged, her wrists and ankles rubbed raw from the repeated chafing. Her captor had literally snatched her from the park, twisting her arm up her back and hustling her away, the pain rendering her mute until they were out of sight of the park. As he propelled her down an alley she managed, all be it briefly, to twist out of his hold, giving vent to her rage and fear with a high pitched scream that was rudely cut off when Adam cuffed her, rendering her unconscious with one blow. When she regained her senses she was bound to the chair, her coat gone along with her blouse, leaving her wearing only her jeans and a tank top over her underwear. Even her shoes were removed, rendering her helpless and vulnerable. Adam had quickly introduced himself, taking some perverse delight in her struggles, laughing at some private joke as she fumed and shivered in the cold of the abandoned warehouse. She had no idea how much time had passed, but it was still light outside with the sun barely piercing the grimy inserts in the roof to shed dusty beams down to reach the floor, leaving large puddles of shadows beyond the sun's reach.

Suddenly she froze, one of the shadows appearing to move, her eyes straining to see anything clearly but sure that she'd seen something. Two pinpoints of gold light briefly illuminated the place attracting her attention and her heart leapt. Vincent was there.

Her captor was somewhere behind her looking, she supposed, out the windows for Vincent's approach. She tried to communicate with Vincent but the gag was too secure and she couldn't move a finger to signal. As if sensing her excitement, Adam returned and stood in front of her, legs apart, arms crossed and head up.

"You might as well come out of the shadows, I know you're there." He intoned, curling his lip as Vincent did just that.

"Let Catherine go."

Adam smiled. "And why should I do that?"

Vincent approached slowly, sizing up the younger man while he shrugged off his coat. "Because if you don't I'll have to kill you."

Adam laughed out loud, remaining exactly where he was and making Vincent approach him. "You're welcome to try, old man, but I think you'll find that you have just become obsolete. I am the new generation and far superior to all previous hybrids. You would do better to beg for mercy and offer yourself up, because you can't win."

Vincent peeled off his hoody, leaving him in his long sleeved grampa-tee. "Pretty cocky for a new born. How old are you?"

"Old enough to know I could take you with one hand behind my back." Adam retorted.

Vincent tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "If you're offering, I'll take those odds." He then wiped the smile off his face and let the Beast out to play, his eyes glowing a bright gold.

Adam followed suit and threw off his coat, moving away from Catherine, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a boxer, shaking his arms to warm up the muscles before turning and facing his adversary. "I could do with some exercise." In an instant his eyes glowed a fierce yellow and his lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl.

Vincent allowed the Beast full rein and roared back, his hands spread and fingers curled into talons.

The two men circled each other, dipping in and out of the beams of light, sizing each other up and looking for an opportunity to engage. Both were of equal height but Vincent had more bulk and thick ropes of muscle up his arms and clearly visible on his thighs. Adam was less broad but he was quick, rushing forward in a blur and catching a glancing blow before dancing out of reach, blood quickly staining Vincent's shirt front from being raked by Adam's claws. This only incensed Vincent, the Beast fully engaged and sending power to his limbs so that when he and Adam finally connected it was a clash of titans, hands clawing and gouging, teeth biting and tearing at flesh and bone. When they drew apart both were sporting bleeding wounds, Vincent seemingly unaffected as he went for Adam again, the lighter man jumping back several feet in a single bound, leaving Vincent to pursue.

Catherine lost sight of them among the machinery and shadows, only their growls and the thud of fist meeting flesh indicating the battle was ongoing. Vincent suddenly shot into view, skidding across the floor on his back, as if someone had thrown him. He dug in his talons and ground to a halt, stone chips flying from the gouges dug in the concrete. Crouching low he snarled at the shadows, daring Adam to come out. The younger man appeared and Vincent sprang at him, the two struggling – brute force against brute force – Vincent's boots sliding on the floor as Adam drove him relentlessly backwards. A vicious backhand sent Vincent to the floor, blood dripping from his chin where Adam had sliced his cheek open, now dazed from the blow. Adam fell on him, ripping and tearing, Vincent's shirt quickly torn to shreds and hanging off his arms when he finally managed to dislodge his attacker with a kick and get in some blows of his own. Both men were panting, eyes glowing, blue veins pulsing under sweating skin. Vincent had number of injuries, blood coating his skin in a gory mess, his face a mask; eyes glowing gold rage at his opponent. Adam bounced on his feet again, ribbons of blood snaking down his torso to soak into the waistband of his jeans, his claws flexing as he feinted and danced out of Vincent's reach. He suddenly moved and Vincent's head snapped back with the force of the blow, landing on his back with a crash, the back of his head connecting with the concrete floor with a sickening thud.

Catherine winced, struggling anew to free herself, desperate to go to Vincent's aid. It was clear to her that this was a fight Vincent might not win, the other hybrid quicker and stronger despite the difference in weight. Even as she wriggled her hands out of one binding Adam was suddenly in front of her, still transformed, his claws swiping at the other bindings and severing them, freeing her but only for a second before he pulled her up, the wig falling off her head as she was dragged from the chair to be held, on her knees, in front of Vincent, Adam's hand gripping her neck so hard she choked.

Adam looked down on the former leading light of Muirfield's stable of chimera and grinned. Vincent still lay on his back, the force of his head hitting the concrete leaving him stunned and disoriented.

Catherine was trying to claw at Adam's fingers, her puny human nails making no impression on his skin, her face turning red as he tightened his grip. He suddenly released her and she fell to the floor, gasping for breath, black hair spilling forward and hiding her face. Winding one hand in her hair Adam yanked her back upright, tears springing to Catherine's eyes at the pain, whimpering when he tightened his hold. Leaning forward he pressed his face to hers, his breath hot on her cheek. He was still in the grip of the Beast, his eyes an unearthly yellow green. Catherine closed her eyes, the tendons in her neck taught with the strain of keeping her head turned away from him.

"Leave her alone!" Vincent's hoarse voice reached out to her and she opened her eyes to meet his where he lay, struggling to get on his knees and wipe the blood away before it blinded him.

"Vincent..." Her faint cry galvanised him into a push to get upright.

"Get your hands off her!" Vincent shouted, calling on the Beast to give him the strength to fight the blood loss long enough to defeat Adam.

Adam watched the struggle and scented victory. He extended his tongue and dragged it from the base of Catherine's throat to her hairline, leaving a trail of moisture on her skin. He turned his head to see Vincent's reaction.

"She tastes delicious, I can see the attraction. I might not kill her after all. I might even emulate you and impregnate her with my own spawn, what do you think?"

As he expected Vincent roared back into Beast mode, rushing at Adam who flung Catherine aside and met Vincent head on.

Catherine flew through the air and landed heavily, crashing against a stack of metal drums. Her cry of pain was lost in the animal grunts and growls from the two men straining to kill each other, claws slashing and raking, Adam finding himself being pushed backwards for a change, Vincent infused with a Beast fueled rage that suddenly made him a worthy adversary for the gen-three. Unfortunately for Vincent his body was at its limit, a raking slash opening up one wound too many and spilling more blood that he could ill afford to lose on to the dirty floor to puddle in the dust. Adam landed a vicious uppercut to Vincent's chin, sending him crashing to the ground, this time with no hope of rising again.

Adam stood triumphant, his bloody arms raised, fingers spread wide, head thrown back as he roared his victory, the inhuman sound reverberating around the empty factory. His torso bore Vincent's marks but he didn't feel them, his victory all the sweeter for having the scars to prove his superiority. Too late he remembered Catherine, the heavy metal pipe hitting the side of his head with the sickening crack of bone breaking. Adam dropped to his knees on the hard ground, his arms slack as his brain swelled from the impact. Catherine swung again, putting all her strength behind the swing, the second blow sending Adam toppling sideways, his skull caved in and spilling brain matter in a spray across the floor. Slowly his body slumped backwards, his blue eyes open in stunned disbelief as his head connected wetly with the ground and he lay still.

Catherine dropped the pipe and staggered a second before making her way over to where Vincent lay and kneeling down beside him. His eyes were still closed and she feared the worst, gathering his bloody body into her arms and pulling him into her lap, there to rock him, her cheek resting on the top of his head.

Black clad bodies crept forward, guns raised, on silent feet, approaching the battle ground and surrounding the scene without uttering a sound. Red dots of light played over Catherine and Vincent, several dotting Adam's body as well.

Catherine didn't see them, her rocking making the red dots dance over Vincent's bloody skin like gory fairy lights.

Reynolds stepped into the circle and surveyed the carnage. He raised a hand and the red dots disappeared as his men lifted their guns on his order. He went over to peer down at Adam, noting the bloody mess of his head and the smeared metal bar nearby. It was unfortunate that they'd arrived too late to prevent this outcome, but Adam was a murderer of innocents, a trail of bodies leading directly to him. At least now they could perform an autopsy and discover what had gone wrong and maybe avoid this scene being repeated.

He approached Catherine and Vincent, noting that Vincent appeared to have recovered enough to grip his lovers hand in his bloody one.

As Reynolds approached Catherine raised her head and Vincent struggled upright, never letting go of each other. They made a tragic scene, both looking the worse for wear, Vincent liberally adorned with deep gashes and claw marks, his face raked and bloody, one eye rapidly closing from the swelling above it. Catherine looked little better, one arm already showing a long graze from elbow to shoulder, the wound oozing beads of blood through the dirt. Her eyes were red rimmed from crying, her wrists and ankles swollen with crusted welts. Despite their lurid appearance their eyes stared into his with unbroken defiance.

Reynolds sighed. "I can see you aren't going to make this easy."

Vincent eased himself further upright, Catherine resting her hands on his bare shoulders, her mouth set in an obstinate line.

"We wouldn't want to disappoint you," Vincent retorted.

Reynolds rocked back on his heels a little and contemplated the blood splattered across the floor.

"And would I be right in saying that you would both rather die than tell me where you child is right now?"

He saw a flicker of triumph pass over Vincent's face, while Catherine somehow looked even more grim and mutinous than before despite her fragile appearance.

Shaking his head, Reynolds lifted a hand and his men parted to push forward two people with hands bound behind their backs and mouths gagged. They were escorted by two of Reynolds men and halted a few feet from Catherine and Vincent's position.

Tess tried to speak around her gag, her eyes flashing daggers at Reynolds before turning to face her friends, her expression remorseful. J.T stood with shoulders hunched, his round face with glasses askew turned to where Adam sprawled lifeless.

Reynolds indicated for them to have their gags removed, Tess spitting with surprisingly good aim at the Directors shoes once free of the gag. J. T Forbes worked his mouth and coughed before speaking.

"Whatever you think you'll achieve by bringing us here, it's not going to work out that way. I'd no more hand over their baby to you than they would, so you might as well kill us and get it over with." His bravado exhausted, J.T shut his mouth tight and turned away and met Vincent's anguished gaze instead. The two friends regarded each other until Vincent nodded in thanks for J.T's sacrifice.

"What he said goes for me as well. Just get on with it, will you?" Tess jeered, her lip curled in disdain.

Reynolds surveyed the four friends for a long moment.

"I think there has been enough blood spilt this day. If this debacle has taught you anything, it should be that no matter how far you run, I will find you. I suggest that you accept this inescapable fact. Muirfield has moved on from second-gen chimera's to a new strand of research. We have enough of your samples to keep our researchers busy for years to come. Having you as an unwilling guest is pointless and illogical, as is ending your own lives for no good reason. Take this as a salutary lesson that you are powerless against our considerable resources, and instead try and make a life for yourselves that doesn't involve any word of Muirfield's existence finding its way into the media."

He had their undivided attention now, Catherine the first to unravel his point.

"You're letting us go?"

Reynolds smiled magnanimously. "Even I can admit defeat when face with a determined foe. You are of more use to me alive than dead. You will be free of Muirfield. We have no further use for you." He indicated the body of Adam. "You have proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that together you are a formidable force and we have expended enough time and energy in trying to bring you to heel." He waved at Tess and J.T. "My last bluff was called, so it's time to move on." He lifted his hand and his men began to melt away into the shadows. Two of them approached Adam's body and started to drag it away by the legs, a trail of slick blood painting the floor behind them. Reynolds made to follow, then turned back.

"Catherine, your mother was a brilliant and beautiful woman. Don't carry a grudge against her for her actions. That guilt is mine to carry. If I hadn't been so blind I never would have lost her in the first place and this little drama would have had a quite different outcome."

His part played out, Director Reynolds turned on his heel and left the stunned group of friends to stare after him.


	27. Part TwentySeven

"A little help here?" Tess's voice cut through the fog clouding Catherine's brain. Vincent groaned and her focus sharpened. Getting to her feet Catherine quickly untied Tess and J.T, the three of them getting Vincent to his feet, holding him up when he swayed. Catherine put his bloody arm over her shoulders while J.T did the same on the other side. The clatter of a helicopter passing over the building made them pause and they listened until it faded from earshot.

"We need to get him looked at by a doctor..." J.T said.

"I am a doctor," Vincent retorted, wincing and wondering if the black spots in his vision were supposed to be there.

"We need a car," Tess muttered, stepping over the wide trail of blood left by the soldiers dragging the corpse outside. "Even better, an ambulance." Her frowning glance took in both Vincent's battered appearance and Catherine's injuries as well.

Vincent could feel his legs starting to give out. "I think I need to sit down again."

Catherine steered him over to a stack of pallets and sat him on them, steadying him with her hand on his shoulder. Vincent rested his head against her stomach and closed his eyes.

"This is ridiculous, I'm going to get help." J.T announced, starting to walk away only to stop and turn back. "Where the hell are we, anyway?"

"Portland, Oregon." Catherine informed him, Tess and J.T sharing a surprised look. Catherine spoke again. "You need to find a phone and call Janet's Diner on south-west fourth avenue. You'll probably speak to Janet herself. Tell her you're a friend of Catherine and Vincent Austin and we need help. Tell her to hurry."

Janet called out the cavalry and sent Sam and Seamus to find them, the two cooks bringing the work van to accommodate them all. It was getting on for midnight when they finally arrived back at the diner, Janet tutting over the state of them, Vincent's bloody condition largely hidden by the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His eye was swollen shut and he could barely walk, all his reserves used up and leaving him dangerously weak. He'd thrown everything he had into the battle for their lives and now he was paying the cost. Ignoring her own injuries, Catherine cleaned him up with Tess's help and got him into the bed, the empty baby basket reminding her to ask Vincent what he'd done with Bella. Unfortunately she was too late, Vincent already dead to the world, his body lax and asleep.

Now it was her turn to get cleaned up, her ankles and wrists washed and bandaged, but she was too wired and worried to sleep, plus she needed to find out what had happened to her friends before she could even think about sleep.

Sam and Seamus had gone home, but Janet, her nose positively twitching in curiosity, sat firmly ensconced in one of the arm chairs a glass at her elbow. Tess and J.T sat side by side talking quietly, waiting for Catherine to appear. When she did, Tess got up and the two women embraced, holding each other tightly.

"I'm so very sorry," Catherine said, giving Tess a squeeze before letting her go.

"What the hell are you apologising for? You didn't kidnap us and fly us clear across a continent." Tess scolded. "I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. What happens now?"

Catherine looked at Tess, then at J.T and finally at Janet. "I...I don't know."

"What was all that business about your Mom?" J.T asked. "Did that man know her?"

Catherine pulled over a chair and sat down, perched on the edge. "I think...I think he was trying to tell me he's my biological father."

"You're fucking kidding me!" Tess exploded, flinging her hands up in the air.

J.T looked stunned. "But...but...but..."

Catherine interrupted him. "Quite."

J.T shut his mouth for a second before speaking again. "Fucking bastard."

Janet decided to say something. "So, are you free of this man now?"

Catherine turned to face her employer and friend. "I honestly don't know. They had us, there was no escape except one...it's all so confused. But they let us go."

"With a warning!" Tess added angrily. "If I understand the prick, he basically told you there was no where you were safe from them."

Catherine looked up a her irate friend. "I don't think that was what he meant, Tess. At least not all that he meant. Sure, he has demonstrated rather forcibly that wherever we go, he'll find us eventually, but I think...oh, I don't know, but I feel that he was saying we're free."

J.T snorted. "As free as you can be when you can't see the bars but their still there."

The three friends lapsed into silence. Janet considered her words before speaking.

"If you ask me, and this is purely from my own experience, a cage is usually of your own making. The only place anyone is truly free is up here." She tapped the side of her head. "We all live under constant scrutiny from technology, or just from the people around us. We like to think we're living free lives in the wonderful west, but how free are we truly? I don't pretend to be a philosopher, but freedom for me equates with the quality of the life you live, how you treat the people who live alongside you and how you live with your own conscience."

J.T turned to face Janet, his expression thoughtful. "That's pretty fucking profound, 'scuse the language."

Janet waved him off. "Don't worry about me, when I get my dander up I could swear a sailor under the table." As she hoped, the three young people laughed, the mood lightening a little.

"Janet's right," Catherine added. "We've proved to Muirfield that we can escape them, and they've proved that running isn't the answer. Wherever we go, they'll eventually find us."

"Your point being?" Tess interrupted, her dark brows drawn together in a frown.

"My point being that instead of living in secret, trying to hide and forever looking over our shoulders, we should live in the open, visible and obvious. Why should we live like fugitives if it's all in vain. We know their watching, so give them what they want. How interesting is a person's life really?" Catherine looked around at the others, her thoughts crystallising. "Reynolds...he said time and again that they have all that Vincent and I can give them in the way of specimens, samples whatever, and anyway they've moved past the second generation of chimera, so Vincent is probably nothing more than a curiosity to them. What if this a real chance to have a life outside of running and hiding?"

"You could live like that? Knowing that Muirfield is watching?" Tess asked.

"What's that saying about keeping your friends close..." Catherine asked, her nose wrinkling as she tried to remember.

"It's from a play by Machiavelli, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer." J.T intoned. "So you're suggesting that instead of trying to avoid being watched we just ignore them and get on with living our lives, which will be so boring and ordinary they'll lose interest?" He raised his eyebrows and looked at Tess and Catherine expectantly. "And you think Vincent will agree with this?"

Catherine shook her head. "I don't know until we have a chance to talk about this, J.T, but can you really think of an alternative? Janet is right, we live in a world monitored and regulated by technology and it's only going to get worse. There are camera's everywhere for all sorts of reasons, hell Homeland Security uses satellite facial recognition to track down terrorists, our computers are monitored for suspicious searches, cell phones are taped, there is no where you can escape too that isn't under some sort of surveillance."

Tess shrugged. "You're right. So what now?"

Catherine smiled weakly. "Now I just want Vincent to recover from his wounds, for my baby to be returned to me and to get a decent nights sleep."

J.T sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. "I can go along with that. Dib's on this couch." He bounced to emphasise its comfort. Tess sent him a mock fierce expression tempered by a slow smile.

"You're welcome to it. T.J."

Janet heaved herself out of the chair and approached Catherine who also got to her feet. "Don't worry about little Bella, if I know Marita that child will be as cossetted and fussed over as ever a baby was. I'll send a message that she can bring her back..."

Catherine interrupted her. "No. Not yet. If Marita doesn't mind looking after her for a few days, I'll express instead, and we'll let things settle before risking bringing her out of hiding."

Janet patted her arm. "Very wise. A bit of time to think and rest wouldn't go amiss." She looked around the room at the other two. "For all of you." Turning back to Catherine she hugged the younger woman and turned to go. "There's a fold out bed down in the storage room. I'll leave it at the bottom of the stairs for the young man to bring up for your friend."

"Thank you, Janet."

Catherine waited for her employer to leave, J.T going after her to collect the spare bed. Tess flopped down on the couch and patted the cushion for her friend to join her. Catherine leaned her head against the back of the sofa and stared unseeing at the ceiling panels above.

"What if I'm wrong, Tess? What if this is some ploy to get us to lower our guard and snatch Bella?"

Tess pressed her lips together tightly, frowning a little as she formulated an answer.

"I don't see that you have many choices, Cat. This Muirfield may not be all-powerful, but they sure come a close second. If they really wanted you they could have darted you and Vincent and carried you off without breaking a sweat. Instead they just left a veiled threat and walked away." She paused, Catherine turning her head to look at her best friend. Tess continued. "I'm not saying that you shouldn't be cautious, but if you want any sort of life for Bella or yourself, you have to accept that this Reynolds - who might be your biological father, we don't know – is giving you a sort of hall-pass."

"What if Vincent can't accept that?"

"If he wants to have you and his child in his life, he doesn't really have a lot of alternatives."

Catherine sighed gustily. "I hate this. I hate the not-knowing."

Tess shrugged. "I think the best you can do is build on a compromise. Vincent is alive, you're together, Muirfield is, for the time being, gone and you have a chance to live in the big, bad world, in the open, no more running and hiding or visiting scummy abandoned buildings for a sleep over."

Catherine laughed and Tess joined her.

"Is that what they call it? A sleep over?" Catherine asked, giggling.

"Sleep over, date night, dirty weekend, who cares." Tess grinned, waggling her eyebrows.

J.T arrived at the moment, lugging the fold out bed, puffing and pink in the face. "Where'd you want this?" he asked.

Catherine crawled in to bed beside Vincent and laid her head on his chest. Instantly she felt his hand come up and stroke over her hair. She raised her head and met his dark, sleepy eye and smiled.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better." Vincent told her. "Sorry I passed out on you. Everything alright?"

Catherine nodded. "For the moment. J.T and Tess are sleeping in the lounge, on the couch and a fold out respectively. Janet has gone home but I told her not to contact Marita immediately."

Vincent raised a dark eyebrow at her. Catherine sighed and settled back against his chest.

"I just thought that if Muirfield are trying to trick us into getting Bella so they could snatch her, I'd foil them by leaving her where she was."

"Smart thinking." Vincent breathed, closing his eye and relaxing again. His body ached all over and he felt as weak as kitten. He knew he'd survive but the process was never comfortable, even with his special ability to heal quickly. It just meant he experienced the pain in a shorter, more intense burst than drawn out over a long period of recovery. He drew in a breath to speak.

"Thank you."

Catherine stirred but didn't rise. "What for?"

"For saving me again. You truly are the strongest person I know."

"I saved us. I don't think he intended for you to live."

Vincent huffed. "He beat me fair and square, Catherine. I couldn't stop him. He was faster, stronger and..."

"Mad." Catherine finished for him. "Whateve they did to create him turned him insane."

"Yeah. Are you okay?"

In answer Catherine smoothed her hand gently over his ribs and wrapped her arm about him. "I'll survive. I already knew that the man I thought was my father, wasn't. It's hard to wrap my head around knowing that this man, this Reynolds, is possibly my biological father. It changes so many things I thought were set in stone. Nothing is the same..."

"I am. Bella is. Tess and J.T are."

Catherine pressed her lips to his chest. "I know, and that's what I cling to when everything else is spinning into chaos."

Vincent continued to stroke her hair, the action soothing and familiar. "And even if she is my stepsister Heather is still the same. I wonder how they will react when we resurface again."

"Are we?"

"We'll talk about it in the morning." Catherine told him sleepily, snuggling against his side.

"Uhuh." Vincent murmured.


	28. Part TwentyEight

J.T awoke to the smell of coffee being wafted under his nose. Blinking, he stared up into Vincent's face before fumbling for his glasses.

"What time is it?"

"Time to discuss the future."

Pushing his glasses up his nose, J.T accepted the coffee and swung his feet to the floor. "You seemed to have bounced back from the dead."

Vincent shrugged and lifted the edge of his t-shirt to reveal the healing pink scars crisscrossing his ribs and stomach. "Not so dead, just a little slow to catch up."

J.T inhaled sipped his coffee and sighed. "This is good." He looked around, belatedly noticing the fold out bed pushed to the side and the absence of the women. "Where is everyone?"

"Catherine and Tess are down at the diner, helping Janet."

"Tess? A waitress?"

Vincent laughed at J.T's expression. "I didn't say she was waiting tables, just that she was down helping Janet and Catherine."

"Oh. So have you and Catherine, you know...er...had a talk about things?"

"Is that your way of asking if I believe that Muirfield have let us go for real?" Vincent jibed.

J.T sat forward. "I'm not suggesting you relax your guard, but it must be obvious that they have had enough of chasing you two, er three all over the country."

"Doesn't mean I'm about to give them the opportunity to steal our child. Bella will stay with Marita and her family for now." Vincent combed a distracted hand through his hair. "There's also the small matter of money. I can't let Catherine bear the burden of providing for all of us, but what on Earth can I do for a job? Even supposing Muirfield have given up their pursuit of us."

J.T chewed his lip as he tossed ideas about in his brain. "You could be a private investigator. You'd be great at tracking people down. A sort of human bloodhound."

Vincent rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Nope. Don't want to do anything that will take me away from Catherine and Bella for any length of time."

"Okay. How about retraining as a doctor?"

"Too old. Anyway, same problem applies. Too many longs hours away from my family."

"Hmmmm. What about...? No, that won't work...um..."

"Give it a rest, J.T. I've been thinking this over far longer than just this morning, and there's nothing I can do that isn't going to take me away from the two most important people in my life."

Vincent got up and started to pace. J.T sat and drank the rest of his now cold coffee, his brows drawn together as he racked his brain for a solution.

The sound of someone coming up the stair drew their attention and they watched as Catherine entered the apartment, a puzzled look on her face and an attaché case in her hand. "This came to the diner addressed to you," she said, holding out an envelope to Vincent.

The three friends exchanged a look before J.T took the case from Catherine and set it down on the table.

"It's locked." He announced after a thorough inspection. "What's in the envelope?"

Vincent glanced at Catherine before running his thumbnail under the back flap and opening the letter, pulling out a single sheet and then upending the letter to let a key fall out and on to his palm.

Catherine took the key while Vincent read the letter. The key fitted the attaché case locks and she lifted the lid, a gasp of shock escaping her lips as she gazed wide-eyed at the contents.

"Well fuck me," J.T blurted, equally shocked.

Vincent scanned the letter and looked into the briefcase. "It's back pay."

Both Catherine and J.T turned to look at him.

"Back pay?" Catherine asked faintly.

"About ten years worth, give or take, according to this letter." Vincent handed her the sheet of expensive, water marked paper, the text taking up only two paragraphs and unsigned. There was no letterhead, no date and nothing to indicate the sender or a return address.

Catherine read it out loud, as much to make it real for herself as for the benefit of the others.

"Inside the briefcase you will find a sum of money that amounts to roughly ten years back pay. If you had worked for those ten years, instead of being declared dead this would have been yours. This is also yours to do with as you please. It cannot be taken off you, or be asked to be repaid. There is no tax to pay on it, no declaration needed to spend it. Consider it your due payment for your service to this country and to those people you tried to help even while in hiding. Think carefully before you decide to give it all away because you are too proud to accept it. This is not blood money or a bribe. There is no tracking technology and these notes are not forgeries. This is a chance of a future for you. Use it wisely." Catherine looked up, stunned. She lifted the sheet to look at the watermark but it didn't reveal anything. "Vincent?"

J.T had pulled out one of the wrapped bundles and was counting, doing a quick calculation in his head. He whistled. "Oh. My. God. Do you have any idea how much is in here?"

Vincent stood to the side, staring down at the money, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. "How much?" he asked, flatly.

"At least two fucking million dollars!" J.T beamed and flapped the bundle of notes in Vincent's face. "That's not back pay, that's...that's.." he spluttered to a halt, belatedly recognising the stubborn set of Vincent's jaw. "What? Why the long face? A minute ago you were worrying about what you'd do for a job. Now..." J.T gestured to the money. "Now you can do whatever you like!"

Catherine remained silent, largely stunned by this unexpected turn of events. "Vincent?" she asked again, moved up to him and reaching up to place her palm against his cheek. "What are you thinking?"

His eyes finally left their frowning contemplation of the briefcase and met hers, a trouble expression in their depths. Slowly he drew her against his chest, his arms holding her tightly, his cheek against the top of her head. Catherine melted against him, her hands linked together behind his back, anchoring her to him.

"Maybe he really meant what he said." She whispered. "A future for us. For Bella."

"Dare we take this at face value?" Vincent questioned, racked with doubts. "We're been running from Muirfield so long, I can't just forget the last ten years, and given it was the means for us to meet I don't want to. But can it be this easy?"

"Easy?" Catherine leaned back and reached up to trace the scan deeply embedded into his right cheek. "Was this easy?" She then drew a finger gently over his healing eye, ringed as it was with a dark bruise. "Was this easy?" She placed her hands on either side of his face and drew him down to meet her, forehead to forehead. "Were we so easy? I don't remember it that way."

J. T was gone when Vincent raised his head and looked around the room. Leaning down he scooped Catherine up into his arms, the letter fluttering to the ground as he carried her into the bedroom and lay her tenderly down on the covers, joining her moments later and covering her with his body, his mouth finding hers and drinking deeply. He made love to her with a fierce, tender abandon, knowing that once they faced the world again it would be irrevocably changed for them. Catherine seemed to sense the conflicting emotions raging through him and accepted all he had to give, pliant and supple in his arms, giving herself up to his hands and mouth, wrapping herself around him and absorbing him into her skin. It was like riding a storm, violent, thunderous, exhilarating but ultimately liberating, calm returning eventually to soak into their souls and give them peace.

With one magnanimous gesture of reconciliation, Catherine's father had given her, Bella and Vincent a future.

Their return to real life was not entirely without its problems. The money was deposited into a new bank account opened under the name of Zalanski. Vincent was adamant that he didn't want to use his real name for all sorts of reasons. There was no way he could explain to his friends and remaining family who all thought him dead, except Alex, that he's been in hiding for a decade or the reason why. It was kinder for them to think him long dead along with the rest of his unit, a memory slowly fading with time. Catherine supported him in this, even teased him that now Bella could take his name. It was a poignant moment when J.T used his computer wizardry and produced a wedding certificate, Vincent not missing Catherine wiping away a tear before folding the document to put it away with their other documentation.

Tess and J.T had returned to New York a week after being abducted, Tess laying the ground work for Catherine's return, J.T making sure they had all the necessary paperwork in place before surfacing after a year away. All agreed that their cover story be kept simple, that Vincent had been offered a job in the Canadian mining industry and Catherine had impetuously gone with him, getting married along the way and having a child. Now his contract with the company was done and they were returning to pick up the threads of their lives, as well as brave the censure of family and in Catherine's case, friends and work colleagues. It wasn't completely water tight, but they hoped that the advent of Bella would smooth over any awkwardness and gloss over the disbelief that Catherine would behave so against type. At least that was what they hoped. J.T arranged for her belongings to come out of storage and be placed back in her apartment, while he found a new place closer to campus. Tess gave a similar version of the story to Joe, emphasising the romantic angle as well as making sure that any lingering questions were dealt with regarding the open case on her disappearance before Catherine put in an appearance at the precinct.

Catherine wasn't going to return to work as a Detective, that side of her life over. She realised, looking back over her motives in the past that what she loved most about the job was working to help people escape dangerous and hopeless situations, and now with her perspective as a parent she wanted to use her skills to help people again. To that end she handed in her resignation to the police department.

Their reunion with her family was difficult and tense, Catherine having left without a word or explanation. The fact that she hadn't chosen to leave was something she couldn't tell them, and she hated to have to tell her cover story, but in the end it was the best for everyone. Heather was openly hostile, her father – stepfather she reminded herself – was a different man since the hit and run. Brooke was Brooke, more concerned with her husband than anything else. Vincent did his best, but with Heather all but blaming him for kidnapping Catherine, the family reunion would have been a disaster if not for Bella. The baby charmed them all, looking so obviously a product of her parents, she gurgled and chortled and simple had to be herself to win over everyone. Thomas was thrilled to be a grandfather, although Brook was less so, but she rallied and cooed over Bella the same as everyone, even holding her when the opportunity presented itself.

Vincent moved into her apartment, the three of them having difficulty adjusting to being back in the heart of New York city. Catherine had forgotten how full on it was, how tall the buildings, how many people lived there. Vincent had issues with the violence, the danger and the general grime of the big city. They decided they needed to live somewhere else.

Catherine had access again to her own bank accounts, instantly transferring all she owed financially to Tess and J.T despite their token protests. She and Vincent finally found themselves all caught up and suddenly thrown into a life they were not prepared for. This was a normal life, so different from what they'd been through for the best part of a year, it was hard to absorb the changes. They had time on their hands, no financial worries and Muirfield off their backs. It was Bella that determined the rhythm of their days, her needs and routines becoming their own, with no one to interrupt or interfere. They slept when she slept, ate when she ate, worked any shopping in around her awake times, and spent every other minute just enjoying their new baby.

After a week, Catherine decided it was time they registered Bella's birth. They took a cab to the office of Vital Records and collected the necessary forms, Catherine able to use her own legitimate birth certificate as identification, and Karen Luscombe's affidavit of the birth in lieu of a hospital record. With the forms completed and paid for, they also completed an application for Bella's social security card, all quite legitimately using Catherine's bona fide documents. Vincent's name was added to the details, the only false note being his surname. The paperwork filed they left to find somewhere warm to eat lunch. They picked a restaurant that faced central park, the bare limbs of the trees a stark reminder of the year winding down and the winter to come. Vincent made an excuse to leave for a little while, Catherine using the time to use the mother's room to feed Bella, curious but not worried by his sudden departure. When she returned to their table, Vincent was sitting there waiting along with a small wrapped box in front of Catherine's chair on her place mat.

"What's this?"

"You'll find out when you open it."

Catherine gave him a quizzical smile and handed Bella over for him to hold while she did just that.

It was a ring box and she stared down at it for a moment, then she looked up into Vincent's eyes.

"Why now?" she asked, still not opening the box.

"Because I love you and why not now."

Catherine pushed open the lid and gasped at the ring it contained. "Oh, Vincent, it's beautiful."

With Bella still on his shoulder, Vincent got down on one knee in the middle of the restaurant.

"Marry me, Catherine."

Catherine stared at him in mute surprise, then she held up her left hand. "I think I already did."

"To the rest of the world we are, but just between us...will you marry me?"

Catherine smiled despite her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I will marry you, Vincent."

"Good. Here, take Bella for a moment." He handed his daughter over and took the ring. Pulling off her gold wedding band, he slipped on the engagement ring, then put the wedding band back on again.

While Bella chortled on her mothers shoulder, Vincent and Catherine kissed, a few of the diners around them applauding the affecting scene. Bella chose that moment to bring up her wind in a loud burp that caused her parents to break apart and laugh at their daughters timing.

The next day they started to look for a new house.


	29. Part TwentyNine

Epilogue

The cab pulled up in front of a neat, two story pale blue house set back from road behind a freshly painted white picket fence. Late summer flowers rioted all over the front garden, overflowing the deep beds and almost smothering the small apron of grass. A path led from the driveway around to the front door, also edged in brightly colour pansies and flox. An ornate white letterbox adorned with the legend "Zalanski" painted on the side fought for space with a climbing rose.

The occupants of the car got out, the neatly dressed woman staring around at the neighbourhood while the young man paid the cabbie and lifted out a colourfully wrapped present with a huge bow. The tiny woman walked up the drive and by-passed the front path, heading down the side of the house towards the double garage and the back gate where the sound of voices and music filled the air. Balloons and streamers hung from the fence posts and gate which the woman pushed open, moving into the back yard.

"Marita!" Catherine's clear voice cut across the music, her trim figure wending through the crowd to welcome the newcomer with a warm hug and smile.

"Catherina, you are looking radiant." Marita beamed, planting a kiss on each cheek and patting her face. "Now where is my beautiful Bella."

"Over with my father...my stepfather." Catherine pointed him out, Bella sitting in his lap, the baby munching contentedly on teething rusk.

"You must introduce me, but do not worry, I won't give away any of your secrets, Mrs. Zalanski." Marita gave Catherine an exagerated wink then turned to introduce the young man still carrying the gaily wrapped birthday present. "Oh, I almost forgot, this is my grandson, Valentin." Marita waved the young man towards a table groaning under its load of unopened presents. "Go leave that over there, then your work is done." The young man smiled, well used to his grandmother's managing ways and taking no offense at her ordering him about. They continued on their way to where Thomas Chandler sat with Bella, his wife Brooke at his side.

"Dad...this is Marita, a friend I made earlier this year. She looked after Bella for me."

"Hello Marita, thank you for helping my daughter. I'll be interested to hear how you met, Catherine has been remarkably reticent about her time away."

Catherine protested. "You know why that was, Dad. I'll just get you a chair, Marita."

With her friend settled with her stepfather and his wife, Catherine headed over towards the barbeque, the small group of neighbours and friends gathered around the impressive looking equipment, the smell of cooked steak filling the air. Vincent saw her coming and peeled away from the group of to meet her.

"I saw Marita arrive, how is she?" Vincent asked, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"The same as ever. I left her with Dad."

"Was that wise?" Vincent asked, shooting a glance over to the small group beside the table.

"As if I had a choice," Catherine retorted with a laugh.

"And how is our birthday girl taking to her Grandfather and step-Grandmother?"

Catherine shushed him. "Don't let Brooke hear you call her that, for heaven's sake."

"Well I'll admit she's the best looking step-grandmother I've ever seen," Vincent teased, Catherine giving him one of her wide eyed stares in an attempt to shut him up.

"Is Heather coming?" he asked. Catherine nodded.

"She'll be late, as always, but I don't think she wanted to miss her neice's party."

"By the way, what do you think of Tess's new boyfriend?" He asked, gesturing to the couple sitting at a table together, deeply engrossed in their conversation.

"I think they make a cute couple."

"What happened to Joe?" Vincent asked, careful to keep his voice down.

"He couldn't seem to decide if or when he was going to leave his wife and Tess gave up waiting." Catherine frowned. "She really loved Joe. I never thought she's be strong enough to give him up."

"People are a constant surprise." said Vincent, kissing her again. Catherine looked over at another couple making their way over to the barbeque.

"J.T looks very cosy with Sarah. I'm glad they decided to have another go at their relationship."

"Me too. It would seem that love is truly in the air." said Vincent

.

"Vincent!" They both turned to greet the woman walking over to them.  
"Karen, we are so pleased you could make Bella's first birthday party." said Catherine, Vincent adding. "We owe you so much."

Karen made a dismissive noise and waved her hand. "You don't owe me anything. I've been dying to come and see New York and I haven't had so much fun in years. It certainly keeps you on your toes. You both look as if life is treating you well."

"Life is delightfully normal now, you might say." Catherine looked up at Vincent, the couple sharing a look before returning their attention back to their guest.

Another guest wandered over and slipped her arm cheekily about Vincent's waist. "I like what you've done with the place, Vincent. Becoming quite the handyman." Janet pointed and they all looked over towards the end of the garden and the child sized wooden play house sitting in the shade of a weeping cherry.

Vincent spread his hands. "It was a kitset, anyone could put it together."

"Don't let his modesty fool you, this boy is handy with all sorts of tools. Suppose it keeps you out of mischief, and if I know anything, little Bella won't be an only child for long." Janet smiled smugly at Catherine and Vincent.

Catherine instinctively placed a hand over her abdomen. "How could you know, I haven't even told..." She looked up at Vincent who had a slightly stunned expression on his face.

Janet tugged on Karen's arm and the two women moved away to give them some privacy.

Vincent shook his head and met Catherine's worried gaze. He placed his hand over hers and closed his eyes for a second then they popped open and he grinned. "You are."

Catherine blushed and buried her face against his chest. "I wanted to tell you later. I wasn't sure until this morning."

"Just as well we picked a house with a few extra rooms," he teased. "Maybe we should look at getting a dog soon. We have the picket fence, and a dog would sort of round out the picture."

Catherine looked up into his face. "I thought you didn't like dogs."

"Big dogs, I don't like big dogs. But there's plenty of little dogs, or medium sized dogs..." He kissed her nose, then her cheek. "We could have a pack of dogs."

"And you would be their leader?" Catherine asked, laughing.

"Of course. We'd go up in the hills and howl together." Vincent joked. "Do we tell everybody the good news?"

"About the dogs?" Catherine asked in mock seriousness.

"About the baby."

"Bella? I think they know about her already. It is her birthday party."

Vincent growled and swept her off her feet, Catherine squeeling and kicking her feet, begging him to put her down. He did, and she quickly checked and tidied her disordered hair and dress

"I think it's time we cut that cake, don't you Mrs. Zalanski?"

"I'll get the cake, you go get Bella, Mr. Zalanski."

Vincent watched Catherine walk away, hips swinging. He could watch that sight forever. Snapping out of his daydream he went to fetch his daughter, swinging Bella around until she laughed, her little legs kicking in delight. As Vincent waited for the cake to arrive he looked around at the people scattered around the back yard. This was their normal, the same as any other family enjoying the late summer day, the smell of barbeque in the air, the babble of happy voices, the background beat of music, the feel of his daughter in his arms and the sight of his beautiful wife completing the fantasy that was now a reality.

In the fork of a tree overlooking the back garden a black, nearly invisible camera peered down at the family group celebrating a special occasion. Each of the faces had already been photographed, recognised, cataloged and named. The operator, far away in another part of the continent, adjusted a toggle to zoom the focus, the camera making a faint whirring noise as it extended its lens for a close up picture. The object of its scrutiny held a child in his arms. With uncanny ability the man turned and looked right at the camera, his eyes glowing a bright gold for a long moment before he deliberately turned his back to the watcher, a message to those behind the lens that he knew they were there and chose to deliberately ignore them.

Director Reynolds sat back in the operators chair and watched the silent pictures and marveled anew at Vincent's enhancements. He was glad they'd decided to use the money wisely, the house a good investment in a nice area, not that far, but far enough from the city so they could breath and raise their child in the manner they wanted. His grandchild certainly appeared to be thriving, starting to take her first tentative steps to the applause and adulation of her immediate and extended family.

Leaning forward he toggled a switch and the image disappeared. It would continue to record the garden party, but he'd watch it later. For now he suddenly felt his age and wanted a quiet place to take in what he'd seen.

Maybe he wasn't as indifferent as he thought he was.

Back at the birthday party Vincent helped his daughter take her first steps, holding on to her hands to keep her upright while she carefully lifted each tiny foot and stomped it on the ground, her face alight with success. Everyone was watching, Catherine crouched down on one knee to encourage her child with each step. Bella clutched her fathers fingers until her mother swung her up in her arms and carried her to the table to stare at the pretty cake with it's pattern of lit candles spelling out her age. As her family gathered around, Bella, with some help from her parents, blew out the candles and clapped her hands, along with everyone else. As the excitement got to her, the faintest hint of a spark of gold illuminated her large hazel eyes for a second, then faded, her head of dark curls sandwiched between her parents as camera's flashed to capture the moment.

The End of The Distance.

Author's note.

Thank you to everyone who has enjoyed reading this story, has commented and left reviews and helped with encouragement and suggestions. You all know who you are, and I treasure every one of you. Thank you, and goodnight.


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